


Behind the Castle Walls - Part 1

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Behind the Castle Walls [1]
Category: Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bad first experiences, Bath Houses, Bathing/Washing, Beating, Biting, Blow Jobs, Caning, Contracts, Corporal Punishment, Demon Sex, Demonic Contracts, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Forced Bonding, Forced Oral Sex, Forced Orgasm, Forced Servitude, Forced Submisson, Hand Jobs, Healing, Heavy Angst, Humiliation, Intimidation, Kindness, M/M, Massage, Master/Servant, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Nudity, Pain, Painplay, Punishment, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Severe Intimidation, Showers, Spanking, Tail Play, Tail Sex, Taxes, Threats of Punishment, Threats of Violence, Underage Sex, Violence, Whipping, Working Off Debt, consider yourself warned, forced blow jobs, incubus, pleasure and pain, therapeutic writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: When Konoe comes of age (16 in Sisa), the tax official shows up at his home in Karou. It turns out, he owes nearly 11 years worth of taxes on his home--which has been unpaid since the death of his mother. In lieu of payment, the knights of the castle take him into custody as an indentured servant, to serve at the Lord of Ransen's palace, for a term of 15 years.Konoe will be having relationships with several characters from the Lamento Beyond the Void series in this fan-fic. I wanted to do something with castles and knights--but it's going to be a little... twisted. And some of them may possibly be acting a little out of character.I'll be adding tags as necessary. It's my usual rather nasty style, so be warned.When I first published this, I didn't want to use chapter summaries because they feel so spolier-ish. However, if you're interested, I have decided to add them as End Notes to this fic.Also, I don't own Lamento - Beyond the Void or their adorable characters. They belong to Nitro+Chiral.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: There's a pretty severe punishment in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first published this work, I wasn't using chapter summaries. But due to the violence, I thought I would--in case there are readers who might be interested in *some* of the chapters, if not the others. I'm in the process of updating this work today as End Notes.

My ears lower and my tail droops hopelessly once the drawbridge creaks closed. Beyond that door and the castle walls lies my freedom. Within the last twelve hours, I’ve become indentured at this place. Apparently, I’ll be serving a fifteen-year term to repay my debts, all because I couldn’t pay the taxes due on my tiny home in Karou.

One of the Lord’s knights violently dragged me from my bed this morning, informing me the Lord had generously come to this decision. Why such a sentence was necessary is new to me as well. I owe one year of service for every year of taxes, plus several more years to cover the interest, which is how it's ended up at fifteen years. I’ll be over thirty years old upon my release! But exactly how or where I’ll be serving is unknown. I wasn’t even aware I _owed_ taxes!

I’ve lived alone in Karou since the death of my mother when I was only five, which was almost eleven years ago. That makes me of age, nearly sixteen, old enough to be responsible for the taxes of the small home. The officials never came to collect and waited patiently for me to come of age to collect my person in place of any money. Although, I had no money to give them—and nothing of value, it seems.

The officials know _everything_ about me—my name, my parents’ names, my age, even my date of birth—though I can’t confirm that, since I don’t even know my own birthday, having depended on my mother for that information. The official accompanying the knights licked his lips when he saw me. Perhaps they are in dire need of workers at the castle because he sure seemed eager to collect me.

I wasn’t permitted to bring anything with me. All my belongings would be confiscated and sold at auction, the official said. I wasn’t even permitted to bring a change of clothing, nor my weapon.

I’ve never left Karou before, except for hunting in the surrounding forest—and I was quite frightened to hear this news. The knights looked on with hardened eyes, although one, a dark-skinned cat with black hair and matching black ears and tail, softened his deep blue eyes with my plight. When he saw my tears falling upon departing my home, he put an arm around me, in a quick, comforting embrace.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he whispered. “Castle Ransen isn’t so bad. They will find a place for you, and you’ll get used to it quickly.”

I was touched by his kindness. His name was Asato, and I introduced myself to him as well.

“Konoe,” he seemed to enjoy saying my name. “You have such lovely eyes.”

I was shocked by his words since no one had ever complimented me like that before. I blushed mightily and found I had to look away.

Unfortunately, when we left Karou, I was forced to walk with my hands shackled. As an indentured servant, there was a risk I might run away from my obligations. There wasn’t a chance I’d be able to outrun this group of knights, and I was terribly ashamed of having to be trussed up in front of the villagers I grew up, but I had no choice. I hung my head in shame.

“Just be thankful you’re permitted to wear clothing, and that the Lord hasn’t required we sell the clothes off your back as well. Otherwise, you could be walking shackled and naked,” commented one of the knights, suggestively.

Again, I was stunned by his comment. Is that really something the Lord would subject his people to in punishment for not paying taxes they didn’t even know were owed? I shivered. Who _is_ this person I’ll be working for, anyway?

I tried to make conversation on the way to the castle, but no one would talk to me except for Asato. And I didn’t want to rely on him too often since he kept getting trouble. In fact, the leader of the group finally called him out and slapped him directly in the mouth. I cringed at the sound of the blow—it sounded incredibly painful, and it was my fault for talking to him.

“That’s the fourth time I’ve had to ask you to stop talking to the recruit, Asato! First, keep your hands off him! I know he’s cute, but we don’t know where he’s destined to serve once he arrives. He may be some other noble’s property. Second, the less he knows, the better off he’ll be, so just shut up. Third, I’m your superior, and you’ve got to acknowledge me as such, or I’ll write you up again!”

That cut off all further conversation, and I felt terrible, trembling in fear at the idea of becoming someone’s property.

When we arrived—it’s a little over half a day’s walk from my hometown, and the moon of light was low in the sky—the drawbridge looked welcoming at first, and we entered the glorious castle. It’s a beautiful structure, large and luxurious. I’ve only ever seen pictures of Castle Ransen. I’ve never even seen it up close before—and now I found myself stepping inside.

I watch over my shoulder as the drawbridge creaks, closing slowly, leaving my old life behind, along with my freedom. A feeling of utter dread comes over me as soon as the gate is shut, and I’m approached by a tall person with flaming red hair. My sense of fear rises another notch, and I feel like I might vomit. I’m suddenly grateful that we didn’t stop to eat anything along the way.

When I look at the person standing before me, he towers over me. His hair is wavy and bright red, and very long, though it’s currently pulled back away from his shoulders. Even pulled up, it reaches the middle of his back. He has a handsome face—chiseled cheekbones and striking blue eyes, which are currently examining me closely. He must be important, because of how he is dressed. His clothes are those of a nobleman, dressy and formal, black and dark red, cut close to his body.

There’s something odd about this person—and I do a double-take when I notice his tail. It’s long and slim, black and hairless, and it’s restlessly moving back and worth. At first, I thought it was a snake. It is _not_ a cat’s tail.

When I look at his face again, I realize he has fleshy protrusions on either side of his head that aren’t covered in fur. He has _human_ ears—well, nearly human. They have pointed tips, rather than rounded. He is _not_ a cat.

Additionally, among that thick red hair, I notice that what I thought was a crown on his head is _not_ actually a crown. An impressive pair of black horns curves gently upwards from either side of his temple. What _is_ this? Is he a _devil_? What is going on here? My hackles raise and my fur bristles.

When I put all these details together, a small fearful growl leaks from my throat, and I back away from him, though my wrists are still shackled.

“Oy, oy, now,” his voice is quiet and even. “Are you sure you don’t wish to be unshackled, now that you’ve finally arrived? We’ve been waiting for you, Konoe.”

I’m very wary of him—what is a _devil_ doing here? And he knows my _name_? What does he want with _me_? What _is_ this place? My heart thumps loudly in my ears, and I continue backing away from him.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” his voice sounds soothing, and he sounds like he is used to frightening young cats like me. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Razel. I assist the Lord in finding places for new recruits, such as yourself.” His lips curve up into a smile, but his eyes do _not_ smile—not at all—his eyes look like they want to devour me. When he smiles, he reveals sharp canines poking over his full lips. He truly frightens me.

“Come, hold out your hands. Let’s take these shackles off. You must be tired after your journey. We should get you cleaned up first, don’t you think, before we find a place for you, hmm?” He continues speaking to me in a low tone, as though comforting a frightened animal.

Razel takes a key from around his neck, reaches a long arm out to my shackles and pulls me to him, easily. My growling stops instantly—the moment he puts his hands on me—his hands are so hot—and he unlocks the shackles from my wrists, removing them as if they are weightless.

I rub my wrists—they are bruised and tender from the heavy shackles and the long walk. They felt very heavy to me, but this devil lifted them as though they weighed nothing. I wonder—were they enchanted? I sneak a look up to Razel, and his clear blue eyes peer down at me.

“It appears we will have some training ahead of us,” he smiles down at me. “But let’s get you cleaned up first.”

My tail quivers in fear when he speaks. Do I _have_ to follow him, really? Alone? I don’t think I can do this.

“Come,” Razel says, turning on his heel, heading down a corridor dimly lit with lamps. I get a strange sense of foreboding.

I hesitate a moment, my ears twitching. I don’t trust him. He is a devil! Why is a devil working here? Do I really have to follow a devil? What kind of mix-up would there have to have been for this to happen? Maybe this is all a mistake, and so I open my mouth.

“I think there’s been a mistake. I am Konoe of Karou. I’m here to work off a debt to the Lord of Ransen. I only found out about it this morning, but I’m sure you must have me confused with another cat.”

Razel turns to look at me, and darkness passes over his expression briefly when he sees I have not followed him. He crosses his arms across his broad chest, and replies, “Konoe of Karou, son of Shui and Marta, nearly 16 years of age. You’ve never left your home in Karou before, have you?”

“No, I have not.” I’m shocked he knows my name, birthplace, and parents. My ears lower when he says them out loud.

“And might I assume you’ve not had much association with others? Not even in your village. They avoided you after the passing of your mother, didn’t they?”

“Um—that’s true. I have not.” How would he know that? I can feel a blush rising in my face. I guess he does know me.

“The villagers knew about the taxes due on your home and didn’t inform you. There’s been no mistake. You’re in the right place. We’ve been awaiting your arrival, eagerly. However, we will have some work ahead of us, but no matter. It will be my pleasure. Your first lesson will be learned quickly. First, when I ask you to come, you need to comply _immediately_.” Razel’s voice is very quiet—not angry, not upset. Just extremely even. He continues.

“I’m not looking for questions or excuses. If you have questions, save them for after you’ve obeyed. Once you’ve obeyed me, I _might_ consider giving you the privilege of asking a question. Until you’ve earned the privilege, keep those pretty lips shut.”

A small surprised sound falls from my lips. I find myself frozen in place, unable to move from my spot.

“Second, when you address me, you may call me sir. I don’t mind if you admire me—I know I’m nice to look at, and you’re new to the castle. But you need to keep your place in mind. Perhaps if you were on your knees, it would be easier for you to remember your place here.” 

In a flash, Razel appears before me. He’s closed the distance between us without making a sound. 

“Yet, you _still_ have not obeyed. You did _not_ come when called, and you have _not_ kneeled before me. Is there a problem, or are you desiring a public punishment? Myself, I am happy to perform either way, but most of my recruits prefer their punishments performed in private.”

“P-punishments?” I ask, stunned, still frozen in place, like my feet are glued to the ground.

“For your disobedience,” Razel’s tone is still very low, very even. I’ve noticed several people in the courtyard have stopped working and are looking in our direction. At first, I thought it was just because I was new, but now, my fear is becoming unbearable. My ears twitch with the tension.

“Wait—d-disobedience? I didn’t disobey!” I exclaim. “I simply wanted to make sure you had the right person.”

“You defied me, in public, in the courtyard. Defiance is disobedience, Konoe, kitten. This is an excellent learning opportunity for you.” I’m shocked at how low his voice is, even now. He doesn’t yell. In fact, it’s almost too calm.

“That wasn’t defiance!” I yell, although—now I realize I do indeed sound defiant.

Razel looks down at me, taking my arm, and pulling me along firmly. “This is your doing, keep in mind. Next time, I’ll bet you choose a private session with me instead.”

“Wait— _stop_ —what are you doing?!” I protest, dragged along behind him. As I'm forced to follow, I notice he is carrying several scary-looking implements attached to his belt, including a whip, a riding crop, a leather thong, a ruler, and a cane. Fear like cold water is dumped over my shoulders. What is he going to do to me? 

“Because this is your first time, you may find it difficult to submit. But understand, Konoe, kitten, you _will_ submit to me. No matter how long it takes, you _will_ submit. So to start, I will hold you. That often makes it easier.” The tone of his cold voice sends shivers down my spine. Submit? Submit to _what_ exactly? The anticipation and fear are overtaking me now, and another small sound escapes my throat. My body is trembling uncontrollably.

In the center of the courtyard—the very center, where anyone who wants to look can get a good view—there is a large armless chair. Razel takes a seat and drags me across his lap, face down.

I cannot _believe_ this is happening. What the hell is this place? Is he going to spank me? Here? In front of all these strangers? My face is burning up.

“Usually, I have the offender count off the number of blows, but I don’t know how many it will take for you to submit to me. And I don’t believe I can rely on you to count, either. So I will do this as many times as needed—until you submit. Do you understand?” 

“Get me out of here! Let go of me! This is crazy!” I’m shouting desperately, squirming, fighting, trying to get out of his grip—but his hands are like a vice.

Just when I think it can’t possibly get worse, I feel a hand fumbling at the front of my breeches, unbuttoning them with speed I never thought possible—and I gasp in surprise. Razel pulls them and my underclothing down in a single experienced swift tug. I’m so humiliated and embarrassed—my ears burn in shame, and I can’t look up from the floor. He’s exposed my ass to the entire courtyard! Is he going to spank my bare ass— _in front of everyone here_? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

“ _That’s_ closed your mouth, has it?” His large hand—it’s so hot— _why does he feel so hot?_ —rubs tenderly against my bare skin, and it feels almost affectionate. “Beautiful fresh _virgin_ skin,” he whispers under his breath.

What the _fuck_ did he just say? I flinch, cringing in terror.

Then, the first blow comes down against my ass, and it stings! I haven’t been spanked in since my mother was alive, and even then, I must have been three or four. But this—this is excruciating! Between the pain and mortification, I can't seem to catch my breath. His hand moves quickly, in practiced motions, making embarrassingly loud slapping sounds, first my left and then my right cheek. But the _worst_ are the blows against the sensitive skin right where my legs and ass meet—and those hurt so much I almost jump off his lap!

At first, I try to cover myself, but he grabs both my hands in one of his and pins them tightly in place at the small of my back. That makes me arch my back, which makes my ass stick out even further, making me an easier target. I can’t twist out of the way, either, since he’s holding me so tightly. I try to kick away from him, but his legs have me pinned down in an iron grip, too.

I struggle to keep my tail out of the way, for fear it might get damaged. Razel’s hand speeds up, and I lose my breath—and I cry out loudly with every blow. It doesn’t take long for me to start crying for real in pain. At first, I was yelling in frustration, and then, I cried out in response to the pain. Now, my sobs are because I am mortified, embarrassed, and broken. But because I can’t escape, and I _know_ I can’t, I realize I’d better just submit, or he might spank me all night! I can’t handle this torture and humiliation.

Burying my head in his lap, I’m crying full force now. I can’t get myself to stop—even when Razel’s hand finally slows down the volleys. I have submitted my body now, and I open my hands, relaxingmy body, feeling stinging blows drop down on my unprotected flesh—burning each time—and they _do_ burn, actually—yet he still continues spanking me as if to make the point that he owns me.

Speaking into his lap, between my sobs, I start to beg and plead, “Please—sir—I’m so sorry—I submit— _please_ —I was in the wrong—sir—I disobeyed—and—ah—I’m sorry—please— _please_ ”—until I can’t speak anymore. 

Once his hand stops the blows and his hold on me loosens, I scramble off his lap and kneel at his feet, lowering my head (and my ears) in submission. I make my body as small as possible.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” my breeches are still in disarray, but I just leave them.

I feel the touch of a hot finger on my chin, and it tilts my face up toward its owner.

“This is a  _much_ better look for you,” Razel’s calm voice hasn’t changed its icy calm, even after that brutal public punishment. “You look beautiful when you submit. You’re so much softer, little one. Your eyes shine, your lips are full, and now, the entire castle can’t take their eyes off your gorgeous ass, Konoe. I did you a favor, you see. You’ll have no trouble now attracting work.”

“Work?” But what kind of work is he talking about? My stomach turns slightly, fear pouring into my very soul, and Razel chuckles slightly.

“Let’s finish up our business here, and then we can get going. As you recall, there were two lessons you were learning, correct?”

My ass hurts so much, and I want to rub it—cover it up, too—but that won’t help me remember the answers to the questions this devil is asking me. Lessons? Oh, yes—he wanted me to submit. “You wanted me to submit to you, sir.”

“Correct, but for what purpose?”

I’m stumped. “Oh—because I didn’t follow you when you told me to come?” I ask timidly.

“Good boy,” Razel rewards me with a small smile and a soft stroke on my sore ass as well—which feels very odd. A surprising shiver goes through my body in response to his touch. “Now, do you remember the second issue?”

I think carefully. “You told me to call you sir, and I didn’t address you respectfully? Ah, and you wanted me to kneel?” 

“Well, that has something to do with it, but the main issue was _defiance_. Obedience and defiance. When I ask you to come, I expect immediate compliance. When I ask you to address me, I would like to do it respectfully, and not defy me in public.”

I lower my ears again, still sitting on my knees before him.

“So the spanking was to teach you to obey. Now, I need to teach you to not to defy me.”

I flinch suddenly. _Another_ lesson? Wait—what? I don’t think I can handle another spanking. I start to shake a little, and my ears fold flat against my head in fear, my tail bristling.

“N-No, _please_ …”

Taking my chin in his hand, he lifts my lowered face so he can directly address me. His other hand strokes my tail, making that odd sensation run through my body again. What _is_ that feeling?

“Ah—your tail looks lovely fluffed up like that. Listen, now, and learn well. I hold an important position here. It’s important that you, one of my students—or recruits, rather—make sure that you maintain this boundary with me. Otherwise, the other recruits might also rebel, or the Lord may think I’m doing a sub-par job or going easy on you. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” and I can’t keep the misery out of my voice. “I’m so sorry I spoke to you disrespectfully.” Tears drip from my eyes. I am afraid of what he is about to do to me. 

“In some ways, respect can be a more important lesson than obedience, since it affects those around you and their livelihoods as well. This is a very important lesson, Konoe. As your own father died so young, perhaps you never had a chance to learn how important _respect_ is in relationships. I will gladly step in for you.”

He grabs my shoulder, pulling me to my feet.

“Now, show me what you’ve just learned about submission. Keep standing, but place your hands on the seat of this chair.”

I get an absolutely sick feeling in my stomach, but I bend my body over at the waist and put my hands on the seat of the chair as he requested, sticking my reddened ass out into the room. My breeches are still gathered up around my ankles, and I'm completely mortified.

“Kitten, make sure you’ve got a firm grip now, dig those claws in if you have to. I’ll give you ten strokes with the cane, and I want to hear your beautiful voice count each one off for me. If you fail to count them off, I will start over from the beginning. Do you understand?” I feel another soft brush against my bare ass, but this time, it’s a slim, wooden stick—and I’m filled with terror, my heart rising up to my throat. This is going to hurt a _lot_ more than his hand.

I dig my claws into the seat just in time and hear a whistling sound that makes my ears twitch, just before the cane makes contact with my sit spot.

Thwack!

My entire body pitches forward toward the chair in response to the blow, and I howl in pain. 

The area the cane hits is so slim—a narrow stripe against my bare flesh—but it shoots pain both down my thighs and up into my ass like nothing I could have imagined. The pain even starts to reach around my hips, and I swallow in terror of what's to come. Tears squirt out of my eyes, and I lick my lips.

“One,” I count softly, hopelessly.

“Excellent job, kitten. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle this on your first day,” Razel whispers into my ear, the proximity of his mouth to my ear surprising me, since his whisper moves the fur there, tickling me and sending a shiver down my spine. The whisper distracts me enough so I miss the sound of the cane swishing through the air.

Thwack!

After another agonized scream, the pain flowing more to the left butt cheek this time, threatening to topple me to the ground, I manage a very soft, “Two.”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Almost bringing me to my knees, these blows are much more intense, applied in such rapid succession. I scream with each blow, tears flowing freely. The pain has wrapped around my hips and is creeping toward my groin, precariously close to my privates. I bend over to protect them and feel like I might throw up.

“Three, four, and five,” my voice is close to a whisper now, and before I even get the last word out—

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Instead of screams, my cries end in quiet, breathy sobs. I’m losing my voice and struggling to breathe. I feel faint from the pain, but quickly and desperately count, “Six, seven, and eight.”

Thwack!

“Ah!” Aimed right at my thighs, this one was particularly mean—a fresh spot on my legs is covered with pain. My knees are left shaking. But I don’t forget to count, for fear he might start over from the beginning.

“Nine.” I’m relieved to count that number—only one more left. I can do this!

Thwack! 

A loud scream tears from my throat—my legs were slightly open at this blow, and my tender thighs weren’t recovered from the last one. Stuttering sobs flow from my mouth, but before I let them flow freely, I exhale the word, “Ten!”

I’m filled with relief. This has to be it, then, right? I collapse where I’m standing, my tears overtaking me, sobs wracking my frame. I fall on my knees in front of the chair, shivering with pain. I try to touch my ass, but when I do, the area is burning with pain. The spanking was bad enough, and my skin is still hot from that, but the caning? This has left mean red stripes on my ass, too hot, too swollen to even touch.

“Good boy,” Razel offers me praise, which strangely covers me in gooseflesh. “Face forward, my darling.”

I obey immediately, but I’m covered with confusion and fear. I struggle back to my feet, still sobbing quietly.

“I cannot have you believe that you may do as you wish whenever you like. This is the last part of your lesson—assuming you obey for the rest of the evening. Hold out your hands, palms up.”

Terrified, I raise my eyes to him, fresh thick tears falling down my face. He cannot mean to use the cane on my hands? Why? What have I done to offend?

“Konoe.” Razel takes my chin in hand once again. “Surely, you don’t mean to defy me _again_. Not right after that punishment? I know you are new here, but you _cannot_ be that slow of a learner. Show me your palms.”

Quivering in fear, and a small pleading sound issuing from my mouth, I hold my hands out to him obediently, palms up. My hands quiver before me, but my arms are straight. A small plea falls from my lips, “Ah—please, but, _please_ —I have already learned my lesson so well!”

“I’m glad to hear it, but this is the final part of your lesson. Count for me again. I _love_ the sound of your voice.” I can watch his cold eyes as he smacks the cane down against my soft, defenseless palms.

Of course, the pain is horrendous—making me feel like my fingers are breaking, shooting into my knuckles and into my claws. It takes everything I have not to pull my hands away from the blow.

“One,” I whisper, glancing up at Razel, and then dropping my eyes humbly.

Smack! 

Blood and pain pool in my fingers, making them feel oddly heavy, like my claws might break off at any moment. I watch as my claws draw automatically, hoping to defend themselves from this assault. 

“Two,” I whisper, keeping my eyes on my hands.

Smack!

Now, the pain creeps up into my wrists, making my hands quiver and tremble, threatening to make me drop my arms to my sides. But I fight the feeling and keep them still. I can see three bright red stripes on the palms of my hands.

“Three,” another whisper to confirm the blow.

Smack!

The pain creeps above my wrists and shoots into my forearms and elbows—I shriek, wanting to rub my arms after this blow. My arms drop slightly in defense, but I immediately lift them back up to Razel, as though in an offering.

“Four,” I nearly scream.

Smack! 

This time, I manage to get myself back together. Half-way through now—I can _do_ this. I look up at Razel’s face, hoping to see that he is proud of my efforts. I’m shocked to find him smiling,actually _smiling_ —his fangs peek through the top of his lips. Shock courses through my body as he licks his lips, ogling me like a delicious treat. Another tear slips down my face, and a shudder goes through my spine. 

“Five,” I whisper, utterly horrified.

Smack!

Why is he smiling? I shiver with pain. Does he _like_ torturing me? Maybe this isn’t about discipline at all—it’s all about _torture_! The pain of that blow reaches all the way to my collarbones, but I’m too disgusted to care.

“Six,” I answer, disgusted.

Smack!

Razel looks at me sharply and hits my tender flesh even more viciously, and a shriek is inadvertently torn from my lungs. He's looking at me with angry eyes, now, as though he can read my thoughts!

“Seven?” It almost sounds like a question, or a plea—desperate to please him with my suffering.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

A volley of smacks in quick succession take my breath away—I’m left sobbing, honestly crying now. But I still manage, barely audible in a whisper. Those last three blows—I feel like my claws are going to fall right off and my fingers will break. Looking at my hands, I can’t close them into fists anymore, red and swollen, and I can’t hold anything, grab anything, do _anything_ with them—my hands have become _useless_. But—I remember to count.

“Eight, nine, and ten!” Only then do I dissolve into tears, crumpling up on the ground in a small ball, trembling with pain and fear. I'm broken and beaten—useless. How can I serve anyone with hands such as these?

“ _Very_ nice—that was divine,” Razel say gently, surprising me again when he licks my ear, “You’re going to fit in here very nicely! Now, come. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He scoops me up in his arms, since I’m nearly useless now, and carries me down the dimly lit corridor. 

What have I gotten myself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konoe is nearing his 16th birthday in Karou when soldiers from Castle Ransen break down his door. The soldiers inform him he is 11 years overdue on taxes, and that he will be conscripted into indentured service at Castle Ransen to repay his debt. He owes 15 years of service after interest. They march him away from a home he has never left.
> 
> Along the way, a soldier named Asato makes friends with him, getting in trouble for making too much conversation with the captive.
> 
> Once Konoe arrives at the castle, he meets Razel, who is in charge of the new recruits, as he is called. It seems he has been expected for some time, in fact. However, Konoe doesn't want to go along with a devil--what is a devil doing in the castle anyway? And he is punished rather severely for his insubordinate behavior. Razel spanks his bare bum in the middle of the courtyard, basically until Konoe submits and admits he was disobedient. He also gives him 10 smacks with a cane (also on his bare bum, publicly), and then also canes his hands in the same way.
> 
> Konoe is left a sobbing mess, and Razel carries him off to the bathhouse to get cleaned up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Nudity, non-consensual touching.

The corridor is dimly lit with oil lamps, but I barely flinch from the fire as we pass. Secretly, I’m afraid of fire, and lamps are no exception. My vision is still cloudy with tears—my palms and fingers are throbbing in time to my heartbeat, and my ass is still burning from the brutal caning. However, as I’m being carried, I feel a soft touch against my ears—and it feels almost tender. Is that Razel’s mouth? Did he just kiss me? What the fuck?

“You did well, Konoe of Karou,” his deep voice echoes into my ear, startling me. I flinch in surprise at the sound of his voice—its suddenness and volume, as well as the fact that he is being so intimate after that kind of brutality. “I, for one, didn’t think you’d be able to withstand the cane so early on in your training, especially the one to your hands. Your behavior was most compliant, most obedient. I'm pleased. I have no doubts I’ll be receiving requests for you.”

Incessant curiosity overcomes my fear, and a quiet word leaks from my mouth in question, “Requests?”

“Indeed. I chose the courtyard for your punishment as an introduction of sorts. It’s a great way to show you off to the nobles of the castle who will want your services.”

“What services?” What sort of services can I _possibly_ provide, especially in the shape I’m in now? I can barely walk—if at all—and I most certainly can’t hold anything with these hands.

“You’ll find out more soon enough. Now, it’s time to clean you up. The standards of cleanliness are higher in the castle than in rural areas, since we live in relatively small quarters. Plus, we want you looking your best for tonight’s event when we publicly introduce you to the palace.”

A bolt of fear shoots through my body when I hear this. “An e-event? But with my hands like this, I won’t even be able to serve drinks,” I whisper nervously.

“Oh, you won’t be serving drinks. _Dessert_ , perhaps, but not drinks.” Teeth graze my ear—is Razel smiling? Chills run down my spine. “You did well to wait with your questions, but that is all I have the patience to answer right now. Knowing more will only increase your anxiety. Now, it’s time to enjoy the luxury of the bath.”

“The luxury”—I start, but another utterance of surprise interrupts my question when we step into the bathing area.

This is a large, brightly lit room with tall ceilings, a few windows, and air that is damp with moisture. The center of the room is occupied by a gorgeous pool, steam floating above the surface of the water, a beautiful fountain flowing in the center. I find it hard to take my eyes off that fountain. There are also a couple small pools alongside the larger body of water, several tables and benches, strange chairs that look like you might be able to recline in them, and off to the side, I see an enclosed area. 

I’ve never seen anything so luxurious. The tile is accented with gold, and the tiles look like marble. The water is clear, and a wonderful citrus and mint scent fills the air. Live plants hang from the walls and are planted in pots, scattered around the room, which add to the tropical feeling of the place. My fur bristles in delight, in spite of myself.

“Now, obey the master of the bath. If you don’t—well, you _know_ what will happen. I’ll come back to collect you later.” Razel sets me down on my feet.

The master of the bath? He must mean the cat who is approaching now—with dark hair and a beard, he has an orange striped tail and ears. As he gets closer, I realize he is very large in stature—I mean, he is _huge_ , almost twice my size, and I tremble a little in fear. He is taking the fun out of this place, turning my excitement into anxiety.

“Ah, Razel, is this our newest addition?” His voice is very deep, and his skin is clear, covered with a light sheen of moisture.

“Please, get him cleaned up and prepare him for tonight’s reception. I'll be back or send someone to take him to wardrobe.”

The giant cat is looking at me—totally checking me out, from my head to my toes—I don’t have to look at him to know it. I can feel his eyes crawling over me. I’m looking down at my feet, and I’m _terribly_ intimidated. I’ve never seen a cat so large! His feet are twice the size of mine. He’s dressed casually in a light cotton robe and has a towel wrapped around his neck.

“Got it.”

Razel turns to leave, and I’m frozen in place for a moment. I catch myself before reaching out to catch Razel's sleeve. What am I _doing_? Do really I want this devil, the red-haired one who just beat the shit out of me, to stay here with me, while I take a bath? Why am I turning my body toward him, then? I must be _crazy_! Perhaps, isn’t a _known_ danger better than dealing with the unknown?

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I jump back, startled, clearly overreacting. A gasp inadvertently drops from my lips.

“Oy, oy, it’s all right. This is a friendly place, the baths. You will like it here. We are all about relaxation and refreshment here.” I feel a hand nudging my chin, encouraging me to look up at his face. I don't want to, and I want to resist, but I am afraid.

“It’s okay. Hey, I’m Bardo. I’m in charge of the bathhouse here at the castle. What do they call you?” He speaks in a soft voice, the same tone Razel used with me earlier. Do I look that much like a frightened animal?

My voice hitches in my throat for a moment, making me unable to speak. I swallow and try again.

“Konoe.” My voice comes out husky, and my throat is sore, probably from my tears. I can’t remember the last time I’ve cried like that.

“Listen, Konoe. It sounds like you’ve been having a rough day—Razel can be pretty tough on recruits, and I can see he’s already punished you. I could actually hear it from in here. He took you to the courtyard?”

I look back down at my feet, feeling a deep blush on my face creep into my ears.

“Don’t be embarrassed—it’s just that he usually doesn’t start punishing recruits until _after_ the opening reception. It's unusual. I was curious, that’s all. And it didn’t sound like the usual punishment, either.”

Another surprised sound leaks out of my mouth at his words, wondering exactly what he heard and what the “usual” punishment entails.

“Oh, I’m sorry—it’s just—it sounded awfully brutal. I was wondering what had happened. We don’t need to talk about it if you'd prefer not to. But we do need to get you cleaned up. I'm sure that will make you feel better. Come along this way.”

I follow his lengthy stride to the enclosed area I’d noticed upon entering. It’s a small but luxurious showering room with benches inside, many silver faucets hanging from the ceilings and walls. He turns some handles, and the water starts running from faucets in the corner of the room, above and on both sides of the walls.

“So, you’ll be provided with other clothing while you’re staying here. Go ahead and strip, and get yourself under the warm water.”

I turn around, and it looks like he will be staying in here with me. What? No privacy? I’ve never bathed with another cat before—well, possibly with the exception of my mother, and I can barely remember that.

“What is this?” I ask suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” Bardo asks while searching around in a cabinet, rifling through a variety of bottles and jars, not looking my way. “It’s a shower. You can’t very well bathe with your clothes on, can you?”

“Um,” I say timidly, looking down at my shirt. It is filthy, but that doesn't mean I want to strip naked in front of this giant cat.

“Look, we have to get you cleaned off in here before you can get in the pool—and your body will feel great once you’ve soaked a while. I bet it’s been _ages_ since you’ve had a proper warm bath. So strip. We’re both guys here—in fact, this is the men’s only section. No need to worry about anyone walking in on you. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Um,” I say again, even more timidly. I don’t think I can do this.

“Do you need help?” Bardo is still rifling around in the cabinet, pulling out a jar and a bottle here and there.

“What? Uh— _no_!” I react instantly.

“Then you should probably _listen_ to what I’m asking you to do, and _get out of those clothes_. You’ll feel much better once you get under that water and rinse off.”

The thought of Razel coming back in here and caning me again—because I refused to take off my clothes—the thought of him stripping me bare—strikes terror into the core of my being. I slip the cape from my shoulders and leave it on the bench. My sash is already mostly undone, as is my apron, so those come off easily as well. Sloppily, I kick off my boots, and my socks along with them. I slip my arms out of my shirt and pull it off overhead, while facing the showers, away from Bardo.

However, the buttons on my breeches pose a small problem. I don’t remember fastening them after that whipping, but Razel must have done it. When I bring my fingers to the buttons and try to slip them through the buttonholes, I nearly yelp. I cannot get my hands to function at all! My fingers feel fat like sausages, and they won’t grip the buttons, no matter what I do. And my hips are too wide to simply pull my breeches down over my hips—I have to undo at _least_ the top two buttons first. The palms of my hand are sore, too, so I can’t even use them to hold part of my pants open. Nor can I draw my claws, either. When I try, a searing pain takes over my entire hand, shooting up to my elbow, and I cry out in pain. 

“Ah, so he caned your hands, too? He must _really_ have it out for you. Here, let me see.” Bardo’s voice has softened, and he gets up from in front of the cabinet.

Reflexively, I back away from him, but he ignores me. I'm standing here in just my breeches, and I don't like this. However, Bardo takes my wrist in one of his hands, turning it over to examine my palm.

“Tch—ouch. You can’t even draw your claws, can you?” Gentle fingertips skate over the top of my palm, and for some reason, that single, tender touch brings tears to my eyes, causing them spill down my cheeks. “This punishment is one of the most painful, as well as the most long-lasting. He does this to control you—to prevent you from striking out at guests or others around you. Notice, you won’t be able to use your claws to defend yourself now. Did you defy him, publicly, perhaps?”

Another shocked sound issues from my mouth—I’m surprised he knows, actually—did he really hear _everything_? I look up at his face, my surprise evidentially obvious.

“It’s not that I heard, but that there’s a method to that guy’s madness. Defiance will definitely set him off. Whatever you do, try not to defy him in public. And if you absolutely _have_ to, try _not_ to do it in the courtyard. Otherwise, this will happen to you.”

Bardo brings my palm up to his lips and gives it a soft kiss. He smiles down at me, wiping the fresh tears from my eyes.

“Your eyes are so red. No more tears now, Konoe. Your face is too sweet for that sort of expression. Let’s get you cleaned up. We will get you feeling like a brand new kitten, all right?”

He grabs the front of my breeches, unbuttoning them in seconds like this is something he does all the time, and he pulls them swiftly from my body—along with my underwear. This is the second time today I’ve been stripped in front of others, and my face heats up. I look away quickly. Am I the only one embarrassed?

“Off you go now—get that cute little body under the water,” he says, giving my shoulder a little push in the direction of the running shower.

Indeed, the water does feel wonderful as it cascades down my hair and over my shoulders. I let it drip down my face and into my eyes, watching the water wash away from my body as if it's washing the worst day of my life from me. I’m already exhausted, and the hot water is making me feel even more tired.

“Oy—you’re not about to faint, are you? You’re swaying!” Bardo is concerned, so he pushes a stool in toward me. “Sit down if you feel lightheaded. I don’t want you cracking your head on the tile.”

After a little while, I notice the water pressure dying down a little—Bardo has turned it down—and he approaches me with a bucket.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask, suspiciously.

“Like I said, we have to get you clean before you can get into the pool. So let me help you. This is my job. Just relax.”

I try to pull away, but he’s a lot bigger than me, and I’m cornered in the shower. I manage to turn my body away from him, at least, facing the wall, but he doesn’t mind that. I feel something slightly slimy dripping in my hair—it’s cold—and then large hands start massaging my head and scalp. At first, I _hate_ the sensation—I don’t want him touching me, my hair, my head, or my ears—but he keeps it up, and I start to enjoy the feeling. It’s relaxing, and it smells good—slightly floral, like orange blossom. He pulls my head back under the water to rinse my hair and then repeats the process.

“What is this?” I ask.

“What—shampoo? Didn’t you have this in your village? How _savage_!” Bardo remarks, a hint of teasing in his voice. I enjoy the feeling of his strong fingers on my temples—massaging away my stress—the feel of his hands against the tense muscles around my ears, making me relax. I sigh when he pushes me under the streaming water again. He squeezes the excess water from my hair with his hands.

Next, he scoops something else onto my head, this stuff from a jar. It smells like mint, and it tingles my scalp when he applies it. I love the cool feeling, especially under the hot water of the shower. He doesn’t rinse this one, however. Instead, he takes a wide-toothed comb and works it through my hair, combing it through to the ends.

"If you didn't have shampoo, you probably didn't have conditioner, either. Shampoo is like a special soap for your hair. Conditioner is just that: it detangles your hair, keeps it shiny and smooth. We'll use it on your fur, too."

Then, I feel something scratchy on my back. I thought it was a washcloth at first, but it isn’t—it’s much too scratchy for a regular washcloth. I think it’s covered with soap, and bubbles foam all up over my body as he moves this scratchy thing over my skin. He also moves it down my arms, down my chest and legs, and he has me stand up and turn around, so he can get the back of my legs. However, he stops at my ass.

“Ahh—you poor thing. This may sting a little bit.” I hear a soft plop—the scratchy sponge dropping back into the bucket—and I feel a much softer cloth against my backside. It feels nice at first—until the soap makes contact with one of the open welts left from Razel's cane. I cry out in pain and shiver. “Bear with it, honey—I’m sorry—we have to make sure this is clean so you won’t get an infection.”

His motions are practiced, smooth, and very gentle, and he allows me to rinse off the soap quickly. He immediately grabs more of the minty lotion from the jar—the same stuff on my head— _conditioner_ —and applies it to my inflamed skin, which feels cool and soothing. Then, he massages more of this conditioner into the fur in my tail, which has the most unexpected feeling.

One shiver after another runs through my body as he strokes my tail gently—and I like the feeling quite a lot. I’m not cold, though the mint almost feels chilly. No, the shivers are from something else. It makes my heart race strangely, and my toes curl against the tile floor as if holding me to reality. I have to grab onto Bardo’s arms for support, and a blush rises to my cheeks—but I’m not sure I understand why. We’re both guys here, and this is just a _bath_ , right?

“Does that feel nice? You must be sensitive. Let me comb this through your tail, too,” Bardo murmurs softly. The same wide-toothed comb is run through the fur on my tail several times, and it feels good, too.

Bardo encourages me to sit down on the stool once again, and he takes a small scrub brush, rubs it against the soap, and then scrubs my feet: the nails on my toes, between my toes, even the bottom of my feet get clean in this bath. I wonder how I ever managed to get clean by myself before.

After another soft plop, he takes a smaller brush, and gently cleans my hands in the same way—but he is careful not to irritate the welts on my palms. The blood is still strangely pooled in my fingertips, so it hurts when he scrubs my fingers too hard. He is careful to be very gentle with my claws.

“Yosh, let’s get you rinsed off.” The conditioner is rinsed off my hair—leaving it minty and silky—and the fur on my tail feels the same. It feels so unfamiliar and soft—like it belongs to another cat.

After shutting off the water, he helps dry me off briefly and combs through the hair on my head once more, this time using a fine-toothed comb.

“Do you itch anywhere, little one?” The question is casual, asked softly in his usual deep voice.

“What? Uh, no.”

“Ever have any fleas, lice, ticks, or other bugs?”

“No!” I’m offended by the question.

“Any communicable diseases?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Where’s your home village?”

“Karou.”

“Ah—the south. I see.” His comb works its way through my hair quickly. “You should be fine then. Go ahead and soak in the pool for a while. It should help you relax.”

I stand up gingerly, already pretty relaxed, taking the towel with me around my waist for modesty, and walk toward the other room. I notice Bardo’s eyes follow me when I go, and he looks a little amused when I take the towel.

“It isn’t as though I didn’t already just see everything there was to see, little one,” he mutters playfully. I escape to the other room quickly, taking my embarrassment with me.

I hear the sounds of glass bottles clattering against each other—he’s probably cleaning up—when I dip my toe into the pool at the stairs of the large pool. The water! There are flower petals floating on the surface, and it smells _so_ nice, almost like it’s scented with oil. The texture of the water leaves a soft residue on my skin—not slimy, though—and it’s just light and fresh.

The temperature is perfect, and I wade into the pool up to my shoulders, leaving the towel on the side of the pool. It feels great—I float weightlessly in the water, allowing my body to drift to and fro, and I play with the water from the fountain a little. I can’t help myself. It looks like a sheet of water is dripping down from the center, and when I hold my hand it, I can make designs in it. It's pretty, even fascinating. I've never seen anything like it. I even poke my tail and my tongue in the fountain to see what happens to that sheet of water when I hear chuckling behind me.

“You’re quite fascinated by that fountain, aren’t you?”

“Uh—not really.” Embarrassed, I splash away from it, feeling my ears blushing again. I wonder how long he’s been watching me.

“Seriously? You’ve been playing in it for the past ten minutes, at least.”

I lower my ears and look away.

“Oh come on, there’s nothing wrong with a little play! You don’t need to be embarrassed about that. It’s just been so long since we’ve had a young one like you here. It’s refreshing! Come along now. Climb on out and let's finish preparing you for the evening.” Bardo raps the side of the pool with his claws—again, his claws which are _huge_ and _scary_ , I can’t help noticing—but then I see he is holding a large fluffy towel for me. That's rather kind of him, I think.

I swim over to the side and climb out of the water, taking the towel from his hands, and give my fur and hair a violent shake, from the tips of my ears to the tip of my tail, just like I do at home—

“Oy, oy!” Bardo scolds in irritation. I look up and he's drenched.

“Oh”—I have lived alone for so long, I hadn’t ever considered what would happen to others around me if I shook myself dry like that. “I—I'm—I’m so sorry!” I’m really ashamed, and I’m not sure what to do, so I drop to my knees in fear of punishment. The room is very quiet, except for the quiet sounds of the fountain.

“Ah, stop this now,” his tone is exceedingly gentle, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. He wraps the towel around my body as I kneel on the floor. “Get up. You don’t have to do that here, all right? If you do as I ask, that’s enough for me. Understand?”

I tilt my head up slightly, checking to see if he means what he says. His eyes look sincere, and he pulls me up to stand.

“Come now,” he guides me to one of the strange cots lined up alongside the pool. “Lie down, face down.”

Hesitantly, I obey, still a little suspicious, but he has been kind to me. He keeps the towel around my waist, and I feel him pulling a comb through my hair once again. Then, a softer touch—a brush, maybe?—against my ears. The brush drops down to my tail, and I feel it brushing through every inch of my tail fur, although sometimes his hands smooth it out as well. He uses his claws and fingers as well, which sends odd sensations through my body. I find my ears and toes twitching in discomfort, not quite knowing what I should do.

“You have beautiful fur—I've never seen short fur so very lush and full as yours.”

Next, a new scent assaults my nose—it also smells faintly of mint, but includes some floral notes as well, and some citrus, I think. It’s lotion, which he deftly applies to my back and neck, rubbing it in thoroughly to my muscles and massaging me firmly. The more he massages it, the warmer the lotion seems to get, heating up my sore muscles, and I start to relax despite my initial hesitation.

It feels nice, and it smells good. Despite my initial misgivings, I can’t help the purr that starts rumbling in the back of my throat.

“Hmm, you like this, too? I’m glad.” Bardo’s voice is low, and he continues massaging the lotion into my arms—pulling them away from my body as he works the lotion into my skin. I flinch when he picks up my hands, realizing he is going to massage my still-tender palms. Yet it doesn’t sting—it actually soothes the skin, even my still-red welted skin. I still don’t have much use of my hands, it seems, and I still can’t draw my claws.

He applies the lotion to every inch of my body—even the most embarrassing places, moving the towel when he needs to—but something about the scent makes me relax into the motions, into his movements—and I continue to purr despite my embarrassment. He manages to apply lotion to my feet without tickling me, too, which I find interesting, pulling on each of my toes in turn, flexing my ankles gently, rubbing the soles of my feet.

By the time he’s finished, I’m warm and cozy, still very naked, purring softly to myself in a near slumber on my belly, resting on the cot, my fluffy tail coiled loosely around my body. I feel the brush running through my fur another time—the fur on both my tail and my ears—as well as through my hair.

“All right, little one,” he whispers quietly. “You’re all finished. Just keep resting here till Razel comes to pick you up.”

I barely hear him, but I feel a large hand stroking along the line of my body—from the tips of my ear down my back, dipping in at the curve of my waist, and then gently pulling at my tail, giving it a little tug near the base. Another delightful little shiver runs through my body, and my purring gets a little louder.

“Shit.” It's a quiet admiring whisper, the last thing I hear before I drop off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the way to the baths, Razel indicates that Konoe will be "serving" the nobility here in some respects and that his public punishment was actually a helpful thing to help generate interest in him as a new recruit. He doesn't explain more, saying things would become more clear at this evening's event. He leaves Konoe in Bardo's hands.
> 
> Bardo is in charge of the bathhouse in this fic, and he finds the new recruit charming. He helps get him showered, which Konoe resists mightily. He does not prefer to be nude in front of others, but he doesn't really have a choice. However, once he is clean and his hair and fur shampooed and conditioned (he had access only to soap in Karou) and asked about infectious diseases, ticks and lice, he gets to take a dip in the luxurious heated pool. It has a fountain in the center, and Konoe is a little carried away by his play--he gets like that in the game, too, playing places he probably shouldn't be playing.
> 
> Bardo catches him playing in the water and teases him, saying it's been a while since we've had any kittens at the castle, and then has Konoe come out of the water to get dry. Konoe accidentally shakes off his fur and soaks Bardo--instead of using the towel--and is afraid he might be punished for doing so. But Bardo shrugs it off, saying that the bathhouse isn't like that. It's a place for everyone to relax, and he shouldn't worry about being punished as long as he does as he's asked while he is there.
> 
> The chapter closes with Bardo combing out Konoe's fur and rubbing the magic kitty lotion onto his body, which helps him relax.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Verg is introduced in this chapter. Intimidation, severe intimidation, threats of punishments, beating, pain/pleasure play, non-consensual touching and groping, non-consensual touching, non-con spanking, voyeurism, really-really-bad-first-time-experience, non-con tail play, demon sex, dirty talk, humiliation, rape.

I have to confess, while Bardo still frightens me, I _did_ enjoy the bathhouse. It _is_ a nice place. I probably could have slept through the night after my bath and massage. However, that isn’t what’s in store for me this evening.

In what seems like no time at all, Bardo shakes me awake, saying, “Hey, wake up, now. It’s time to go. I’ll help you dress.”

He slips me into a simple robe—like the cotton one he is wearing—and ties the obi around my waist. Though I’m self-conscious about being naked in front of him, I’m thankful for his assistance, since my hands are still not functioning. He provides a pair of sandals for my feet, and I stand up, feeling a little light-headed from the bath, the hot air, and hunger.

When I look up, however, I realize, it isn’t Razel waiting for me. It’s Asato. His eyes are trained in my direction, staring at me, observing me closely. Wait—was he _watching_ as Bardo dressed me? A blush creeps into my cheeks.

“Konoe,” he says, looking at me without blinking. “You—after your bath—your fur—I didn’t know you had white fur.”

Was I really _that_ dirty before? I’m a fairly careful groomer, I think, but sure, I tend to rush if I stay up too late or sleep too late in the mornings, and maybe that’s been more often than not, especially recently. Well, I _am_ a teenager, so I’m sure I don’t always do my utmost in maintaining my appearance.

“It _isn’t_ white,” I say, trying not to sound offended, glancing down at my feet.

“No, it’s white tipped with gold,” he replies, his tail is swaying in wide arcs. He looks weirdly happy. What’s with this guy? He continues boldly, “And your skin is so pale. It looks so smooth. I think it’s beautiful. After your bath, you look even more beautiful.”

I am terribly embarrassed by his statement, and a sound indicating my embarrassment inadvertently leaks from my mouth which I fail to suppress. Bardo laughs heartily, but he makes me even more self-conscious when he agrees.

“Asato, you’re a cat of few words, but the words you say are heartfelt and straight to the point. I have to agree with you!”

I feel my blush traveling from my cheeks up to my ears and down into my chest.

“And will you look at that—he’s a magic cat! He’s the only cat I’ve ever met with _pink_ ears! Have you ever seen such a thing, Asato?”

“Oh—magic, yes,” Asato takes a step closer to me, and as he is quite tall, he has an excellent view of my ears from his vantage point.

I don’t know what to say. It’s only natural for cats with light-colored fur to blush, isn’t it? I can't be the _only_ one who does this, I’m sure.

“What are you talking about? Of course, it’s natural for cats with pale skin and fur to blush on occasion. You are just lucky to have dark fur, so your feelings don’t show so obviously,” I grumble jealously.

“But that isn’t true, Konoe,” Asato continues quite seriously. “That cat, Rai—he doesn’t _ever_ have pink ears, and he is pure white—his hair and fur are almost silver! You truly are special.”

Bardo laughs again. “You’re right—I can’t say I ever remember seeing Rai blush, either—and by all rights, he should if what you say is correct.” Then, on a more serious note, he adds to Asato, “You’d better get this cat where he needs to be, and quickly. Don’t delay, Asato, regardless of your feelings. You don’t want to risk punishment—to yourself or to him.”

He pats me on the shoulder as we leave, and I think I feel him lightly pat my ass as well—but that must be my imagination.

“Are you okay to walk?” Asato asks me.

“Yes, of course. I am fine,” I insist. My mind is still wandering. An all-white, nearly silver cat, who doesn’t blush? I’m jealous. I wish _I_ could be like that.

“If you become tired or dizzy, you should let me know,” Asato continues, as I follow him down the corridor. “Sometimes, it happens in the bath. The bathhouse is nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I enjoyed it very much. Where are we headed?”

“I’m bringing you to the wardrobe room, where a costume for tonight’s event will be chosen for you,” Asato explains.

“What is the purpose of tonight's event?” I ask. No one else has told me, so perhaps Asato will give me some details.

“Well, when new recruits come, Razel likes to introduce them to the nobles of the palace. I think this is for recruits who haven’t been assigned a permanent place in the castle. When I first arrived, I was destined to serve as a soldier under the knights, so I didn’t partake in such an event.”

“Where are you from, Asato?” It never occurred to me that he wasn’t actually from here originally. Is he like me?

“I’m from Kira. I was sent as a peace offering from my tribe.”

A peace offering? From Kira? Isn’t that the isolated kingdom of cats within our land that doesn’t accept outsiders? That would explain Asato’s unusual coloring. Cats with black ears are rare, and I have never seen one before today.

“How long have you been assigned to serve in this castle?”

“I’m here to serve with my life.” His statement is confident, and he sounds certain of himself.

“Your entire _life_ will be spent here?” I’m flabbergasted. Can't he _ever_ leave? Will he ever have freedom?

“It’s to ensure peace between my home and Ransen. If my life is what is required to help maintain that peace, I will gladly give it.”

I’m impressed. “You must really love Kira,” I marvel.

“I really love peace,” Asato states firmly. “And I don’t dislike serving in the palace. Kira—my home—is small, and they don’t look kindly to travel of any sort. At first, I was fearful of leaving what I’d always known. But now, I can see more of the world, learn about other cultures, and experience things I’d never see if I’d stayed behind. Besides,” he pauses for a moment before he continues. “I think my life is better here.”

“I see.” I’m still terribly impressed. There’s something strangely innocent about the way this cat speaks—he sounds much younger than he probably is. I assume he has to be older than me by at least a few years. 

“However, I never had to deal with Razel,” Asato mumbles quietly.

I glance up at him rather sharply, but he keeps walking, looking straight ahead.

“That isn’t something I should discuss. However, he is terribly unjust. He is a brutal person. I’m fortunate I’ve never had to deal with him personally.”

Our path twists down another corridor, and Asato suddenly stops. Just as suddenly, he grabs my arm and pulls me in close.

“If I could protect Konoe from Razel and his wrath, I would do that, even at the expense of my own safety. But it would be useless. My protection is nothing in this palace, and Razel’s reach extends far—nearly anywhere. With a wave of his finger, he can have me reassigned or even killed. I’m afraid I’d just put you at more risk. I’ve never seen him like this around any other recruits. What is it about you, Konoe, that raises his ire like this?” 

I’m a little afraid of Asato when he speaks like this—and I don’t want to get in trouble, nor do I want to get _him_ in trouble, so I take both my hands and push against his chest firmly.

“Please,” I realize I sound rather desperate. I must be exhausted because my actions aren’t having any effect at all on this cat before me. “ _Please_ , let me go.”

“I fear for you, Konoe. I’m about to drop you off with him _again_. I don’t want to, but I have no choice.” 

“I’ll be fine.” Still pushing on his chest, I raise my face to Asato’s, and I say again, “Let me _go_!” I put as much force as I can behind my words and into my gaze since I have none in my arms.

“It’s your _eyes_ , isn’t it?” His grip on me loosens. “I noticed this morning when I first saw you. There’s something in your eyes that attracts him. You should be careful. Be wary of him. I’m sure you realize he can make your life here extremely unpleasant. And he isn’t the _only_ one.” 

A cold shiver goes down my spine. I _know_ that. I have first-hand experience with it, and now, I’m sure Asato saw it or at least _heard_ it. Does Razel _really_ have it out for me? Is he waiting to trip me up again? Is he waiting to do _that_  to me again? The thought of it overcomes me with fear—that I might not be able to escape his wrath, and I suddenly feel like I am going to throw up.

“I feel—I think—I think I’m going to be sick,” I say suddenly. My stomach starts to turn over unpleasantly in my stomach. What’s happening to my body? Is this panic? Fear overtaking my body by force?

“Ah—oh—here, quickly, come in here,” Asato urges, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a room off the hallway. I’m relieved to see it’s a restroom. I vomit loudly, several times, my entire body wracked with convulsions and covered in sweat. There isn’t much in my stomach except bile and acid—and a little water from the pool—but I continue dry heaving for a few minutes.

Asato waits patiently for me, and then he hands me a pitcher filled with cold water.

“Wash your face, rinse your mouth, have a drink,” he suggests. “And chew this.” He’s holding a sprig of what looks like peppermint. Does he carry that with him, I wonder? He picked it while we were walking from Karou, perhaps? Maybe it was already in the restroom? Maybe this isn’t the first time he’s seen this kind of reaction. “It will settle your stomach.”

He watches me for a moment and then says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, it’s all right. I was already frightened. It’s just—I—I was able to forget while I was in the bath, just for a little while. That’s all.” I feel a little better after vomiting, and the peppermint settles my stomach.

“Are you all right now? We are nearly there.” Asato looks nervous, and his tail is drooping now. He looks miserable.

I reach out and touch his shoulder.

“It’s all right. I’m fine. I can take care of myself. I will be all right. Thank you for your kindness and for your concern. It means more than I can say,” I speak honestly and from the heart.

His face lights up in response to my words, and his tail arcs happily. We continue on our way.

“If—if I can be of help to you, if you can think of any way I might be of help, please let me know,” Asato says, voice nearly imperceptible when we come to a stop outside of a giant door. In a louder voice, he announces, “We are here.” He knocks on the door, and I am admitted. Asato leaves me shortly afterward.

* * *

The wardrobe is exactly what I’d imagine in a palace—though this room is even fancier than I could have expected. Razel is waiting for me, perched on a large chair. He makes the chair look like a throne. Seeing him sitting on a chair causes me a somewhat visceral reaction—I can't help remembering him dragging me across his lap—and he looks at me briefly just as I experience that reaction, almost as if he senses what I am experiencing. He smiles, looking slightly pleased. It makes me terribly uncomfortable.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely? Let me introduce you.”

I look at his outstretched hand, noticing for the first time that he isn’t alone. There’s another person here. It appears to be another devil. This one is as tall as he is, but even brawnier, with short white hair and a similar pair of curved black horns protruding from his head. His eyes are light in color—disconcertingly, I notice, his right eye is green and his left is grey. This devil’s outfit is significantly showier than Razel’s, trimmed with feathers and fur, and he wears his blouse unbuttoned far down his chest, showing off toned, tan skin. He’s wearing mostly black satin with gold accents, and he too has a thin, hairless tail.

Another significant difference between this devil and Razel is his frightening smile. His fangs show almost immediately when he takes in my form, looking me up and down, an almost evil sneer on his face, and he approaches me right away. His confidence and his size intimidate me, and I’m terrified of him. 

“Ah, will you look at this?” His voice is low and husky, and he walks with a swagger. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, so I drop down to my knees, and make myself as small as possible. I don’t really _want_ to bow before him, but if I do, he will have to accept my submission, won’t he? Maybe he won’t touch me then?

Razel chuckles lowly when he sees me kneeling, murmuring, “How very wise of you, little one. Your instincts are right on.” Then in a louder voice, he continues, “This is Verg, the devil of pleasure. Verg, meet our newest recruit, Konoe of Karou.”

“Ah, I see. _This_ is Konoe. We’ve been expecting you. We have been waiting for you for a long, long time,” Verg says. “While I appreciate your obeisance, I can’t admire your form this way, so you may stand.” He grabs my arm and pulls me up roughly to my feet. “That’s better. Now—turn this way,” and he turns me around, and he quite obviously checks out my ass. “Not that I didn’t see what we have to work with earlier today—but I just can’t _wait_ to get a closer look!”

He rubs his hands together gleefully.

So—he _watched_ that? He can’t _possibly_ be one of the nobles Razel was referring to earlier, could he? One of the nobles who would be requesting my “services”? A severe chill runs through my body, shaking me to my core, and I shiver, and my tail continues quivering.

I feel a soft, warm touch to my ear—and I flinch—Razel’s hand is touching me, and I hadn’t noticed him approaching me since I’d been so wary of Verg—and a quiet gasp drops from Razel’s lips.

“Oh, my! The master of the bath really has outdone himself, hasn’t he? Your ears—they are so soft!” I feel another stroke to them, and Verg comes a little closer, too. I find I have nowhere to go, so I stand stock still. He grabs my tail rather roughly, and I let out a small protest.

“N-no—wait— _stop_!” I exclaim, not wanting my sensitive tail to be touched or pulled. Its fur bristles, fluffing out fully, and the fur on my ears stands on end as well.

“Oh, will you look at that? A little fur ball? He’s adorable! You didn’t tell me he was  _this_ cute! I mean, I saw some from my window, but up close, and cleaned up, _shit_! He’s going to be popular! How the hell are we going to keep him to ourselves?”

“I have an idea,” Razel says. “He’s been displaying some… _behavior_ issues. He’s non-compliant and can be quite defiant. I am sure you noticed yourself when you touched his tail just now.”

Wait— _what_? What was I _supposed_ to do? I’m filled with fear at Razel’s words, and now I can’t stop shaking. Will I be punished for refusing Verg’s touch? For my protest? Not knowing what to do and desperate, I drop to my knees before the red-haired devil, and I start to beg and plead—with everything I have.

“ _Please_ , I’m sorry,” I explain, my voice small, my face pointed at the floor. “ _Please_. I was just startled. My tail—it’s very sensitive—and fresh from the bath—and I only was surprised. Please, I don’t yet know what you expect from me, but I am willing to learn, and I _want_ to comply. _Please_ , give me a chance! Please, please, _please_ don’t punish me again. I can’t—I can’t take another punishment.” 

My voice is nearly breaking into sobs, and Verg is looking down at me while I’m begging.

“I thought you said he wasn’t compliant, Razel. He’s looking quite desperate to me,” Verg takes my chin in his hand and points my face up, forcing me to meet his gaze. When I look into his eyes, fear of another sort washes over me, and my body nearly convulses, and I feel my heart thumping in my mouth.

“Oh, he’s _desperate_. Desperate to get out of a punishment, I’d expect,” Razel’s calm voice fills my ears.

“Please,” I whisper. “ _Please_ , please, don’t hurt me.”

“ _Hurt_ you? Why would you think I’d hurt you? That’s the furthest thing from my mind,” Verg’s voice twists and turns inside my head like a vine, as he runs his hand over my ears. “Ah, these _are_ soft! I don’t want to hurt you—I’m the devil of _pleasure_ , didn’t you hear? Although, sometimes, a little pain can be the perfect side dish to pleasure, wouldn’t you agree?”

What is he _talking_ about? Confusion fills my face when I listen to his words.

Tilting my chin up toward his again, he looks at me carefully and then looks at Razel. “Wait a second… Could he be—Is he— _no_. He _can’t_ be. Is he? _Really_?” Verg's tone is almost strained.  
  
From the corner of my eye, Razel gives a slow nod. What? Am I _what_? My anxiety heightens even further—especially after seeing Verg’s excitement in whatever it is.

Verg pulls me to my feet, terror nearly overcoming me. My legs are shaking, my tail is quivering, my ears folded flat against my skull.

“I just  _told_ you, I’m the devil of pleasure, didn’t I? So _relax_. I’m not going to hurt you—don’t make me feel like a monster. However, now, I understand your reaction to all of this. _You_ are suddenly making a lot of sense.”  
  
What? What is he  _talking_ about? I don’t understand what he means. My tail is drooping, though it’s fully fluffed out, and Verg grabs it again—firmly, but he doesn’t hurt me. I’m afraid he might, so I cringe beneath his fingers, my eyes open wide in fear. But instead of causing pain, he moves his hand down to the base of my tail and pulls me close to his body. I’m _terrified_ of this devil.

“You don’t have much experience in _my_ realm.”

The words are spoken directly into my ear, and a shiver courses down my spine when I hear them whispered almost tenderly like that.

“You fear the unknown, don’t you? But let me assure you, there are pleasures greater than you can imagine waiting for you in the upcoming days, weeks, and even years.”

His other hand moves to my tail as well, and he spreads them apart, suspending my tail between them. While he keeps one hand securely on its base, a strange sensation flows through my body. It isn’t unpleasant, but it frightens me. The other hand moves toward the tip of my tail, and the closer it gets to the crooked, hooked end, the more sensitive I become.

“Oh, are you a little _sensitive_ kitty, perhaps? Maybe you don’t feel things like most other guys do? I can help you out with that.”

What does he mean? I don’t think I’m particularly sensitive—I’d guess _most_ cats don’t like having their tails stroked in this way—although, I don’t _hate_ it. I actually kind of enjoy the feeling, though it’s almost overly stimulating. When his fingertips reach the hooked part of my tail, I gasp and sigh indecently—and I shove both hands against my mouth to stifle those obscene noises. The sounds coming from me are shocking—I can’t believe I’m the one makingthem, and I’m so embarrassed.

 “Please, _please_ , stop,” I beg. “Don’t _do_ this—I can’t— _please_ —please let go of me.”

“Why not? Don’t you _enjoy_ the feeling? Those sounds indicate your enjoyment, little kitty. It sounds like you enjoy the feeling so much that you can’t _help_ yourself. Why not just relax and enjoy it?”

“No—I can’t—that’s—ah,” I can barely speak, while vulgar sighs interrupt my speech. What is _happening_ to me? This is a new experience, and I don’t _like_ it! Well, what I don’t like is feeling so _completely_ out of control.

“I didn’t realize cats enjoyed having their tails stroked like this so very much,” Verg’s voice purrs into my ear. “You and I, we are going to have a _lot_ of fun together. Perhaps you will be my special pet.”

“ _No_!” A bolt of fear shoots through my heart at the suggestion, and I try to fight him off. “ _Please—_ ah _—_ just let me go—ah— _please_!”

“Defiance—it’s what you said, Razel. Are you _always_ right?” Verg sighs, almost sadly. “Well, I can help you there. This should help you comply. _Here_.” His voice turns almost wicked.

He removes his hand from the tip of my tail—which is a huge relief—but the other remains firmly attached to the base. Then, I suddenly feel an electric shock shoot through my body. My body stiffens and I cry out in pain. At first, _all_ I experience is excruciating pain and confusion—what even _was_ that? Did _Verg_ do that? But then, wave after wave of exquisite pleasure ripple through my body, starting at the base of my tail, wrapping around my hips. Blood rushes to my lower half, and my dick stiffens. I can feel myself shuddering, and my ears and tail fluff out fully, my pupils dilate, and my mouth waters.

 _What is happening to me?_ I hear strange noises, and they absolutely permeate the room—breathy, guttural, gasping sighs—and I realize they are coming from _me_. I sound desperate, almost like I’m struggling to breathe. Hearing the lewd sounds makes my cock even harder, and I flush deeply in embarrassment of the state I’m in.

“There you go,” Verg praises me. “That’s much better. You’re doing so well, Konoe.”

I hear low chuckling from the chair in the room as well, and I look up to find Razel watching me closely, observing me with those cool, blue eyes.

“Is this your very _first_ experience with sexual feelings?” Verg asks directly. “A little bit of a late bloomer, are you? Or have you perhaps had a special _dream_ before? Perhaps you’ve got a special someone you think about when you _touch_ yourself?”

His salacious words would normally sound outrageous, but curiously, at the moment they only serve to fan my desire, heating up these unknown feelings swirling around inside my head and in my body.

“My first t-time,” I stammer, and I can't believe I'm admitting this.

“It feels _good_ , doesn’t it?” Verg asks. “In fact, I think there’s _nothing_ better.” He reaches out to stroke my tail once again. He addresses Razel next.

“Ah, I guess eventually we should find some actual clothing to wear, but wouldn’t you agree, this is a different look for him? A much _better_ look? And how are we going to decide who gets to _take_ it? That’s what _I_ want to know.”

Take _what_? I don’t understand what he’s talking about. My mind is blurry with pleasure. I want—I want to be _touched_. I’m filled with confusion. I have no idea why I feel this way. 

“Konoe.” Razel’s low voice rumbles lowly.

“Y-yes, sir,” I answer, lowering my eyes and obeying immediately, coming to his side.

“Look at me. Let me see those eyes. I want to look at you.” Razel tilts my face up to look at him, and he meets my gaze with a warm look of his own. He addresses Verg. “Ah, damn, you’re right. I liked the broken look after his punishment, but this is pretty attractive as well.”

“Razel,” Verg suggests, “there’s no law that says you have to keep those two worlds separated.”

“Excuse me?”

“Care for a demonstration?” 

“As long as you don’t overstep your bounds—don’t take what doesn’t belong to you—and keep in mind we only have a little time,” Razel agrees.

“Konoe, come here. I’ll make you feel even better. And we will please Razel as well. Wouldn’t you like that? Don’t you want to please Razel?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer, and I comply, but I am afraid.

Verg is leaning against the wall, crossing his arms, and whispers in my ear, “This is to please Razel. You know how he is—so hard to please—so do your best. I’ll help you. Here, put your hands against the wall.”

He helps me—opening my sore palms out flat against the wall. He pulls my hips away from the wall a little further, exposing my ass to the room, and another bolt of fear runs through my body. My heart thumps loudly in my ears.

“No, _please_ , don’t hurt me!” I almost cry desperately, yet my body still complies, despite my overwhelming fear.

“Devil of _pleasure_ , here, remember, little kitty! _Calm_ _yourself_ ,” Verg keeps me in position, untying my robe. My body starts to shake. “Now, now, what did I just tell you?”

Another searing shock shoots through my body—starting from my tail once again—followed by waves of pleasure. It takes my breath away, leaving me panting loudly and indecently. I eagerly stick out my ass, pushing back into Verg’s hands, where he is brushing against my skin. His touch feels so _good_ —goosebumps are covering me from head to toe.

He continues removing my robe, stripping it from my body. I feel a little resistance left inside me.

“Wait— _please_ —don’t—no— _please_ —can’t you—won’t you just— _please_ ,” I hear the pleas fall into the empty air. It’s the _third_ time I’ve been stripped today. But I don’t have a chance to finish, since Verg sends another shock down my spine, this one from my shoulders down my back and into my tail. It makes me stiffen and straighten my back temporarily with its initial pain, but the delightful waves of pleasure that follow that pain almost make me cry out loud.

“Get yourself back into position now, little kitty,” he coaxes gently. I see him nodding—perhaps at Razel—and then he whispers to me again, in my ear, “This is _for Razel_ , remember.”

I feel a stinging slap to my bare backside, which burns the welted flesh that was injured from Razel’s cane earlier. But the slap—after its initial stinging pain—sends blood flowing into that area, and it feels amazingly _good_. My tail fluffs out again, and I stick my ass out behind me, waiting for the next blow, my heart racing, my breath uneven and panting.

Another slap of Verg’s gloved hand comes down against that sensitive skin, and I cry out first in pain, and then moan in pleasure, moving back against him, my tail undulating scandalously.

After slapping me again, Verg keeps his hand in place and sends another shock of electricity through my body, and I melt into it—moaning with pleasure even before the initial pain has completely dissipated. Saliva drips lewdly from the corners of my mouth, but I can’t be bothered to care. I sigh at the waves of pleasure in my body—it’s so much that my stomach aches with it.

He follows the shock with three sharp slaps to my ass, my hands still pressed up against the wall, and I stand up on tiptoe, unsure of whether I am trying to evade those blows or trying to present myself, making my ass a surer target for Verg's painful and pleasurable ministrations.

“How very _interesting_ ,” I hear Razel’s low voice purring from behind me, still in his chair, and the mere sound of that voice makes clear liquid drip from the tip of my cock. He is _watching_ me—he is watching my body: its salacious movements and its response—and he is _charmed_. That knowledge adds to my own pleasure and heightens my awareness, and my cock strains painfully.

What is happening to me? _What is this?_

“That _this_ could be a _virgin’s_ response? That these _sounds_ , these _movements_ , from such an innocent _face_ , from those plush pouting _lips_ , from such a lithe _body_ —it’s all so _incongruous_. It’s what makes you all the more enticing, little one,” Verg rewards me with another slap, and strokes the base of my tail, making me cry out in pleasure.

“My gods, what _is_ this,” Razel marvels. “You haven’t even touched his front.”

“Do you want me to see if we can do this _without_ touching him? Although—he’s probably never been touched there before. It could be interesting either way.”

“No—don’t touch him. See what you can do with your current ministrations,” Razel orders.

I receive another shock—and a stinging slap to my thighs—this one hard enough to pull tears from my eyes—but the pleasure that follows is immense.

“Oh”—I can’t help myself. My claws try to draw against the wall, but my fingers are still throbbing from Razel's caning, and remembering that humiliation makes my spine shudder again, and it makes my claws try to draw, which causes another wave of pain and curious pleasure.

Verg grabs my tail and pops the tip in his mouth. A strange shrieking sound comes from deep within me, and my brain suddenly goes blank. I feel another shock applied to my ass, and this time, I feel faint. I can hardly breathe, and my gasps turn to panting, irregular panting. I feel Verg’s tongue wrapped around the tip of my tail, and it feels amazing. Then, he slaps my ass again. The pain sends more blood into my groin, surprising me, and a rush of adrenaline blurs my thinking. I can even feel the tiny bumps on Verg’s tongue and the tips of his fangs grazing me as he runs the tip of my tail through his mouth, and I let out a great sigh, almost a scream.

My vision blanks out to white, and I feel weightless for just a moment—like the ground beneath my feet disappears—and then an intense burst of pleasure shoots out from my groin. There’s a strange, terribly distracting damp feeling down there—did I just wet myself? Oh gods, what is this??—but then, wave after wave of pure pleasure sweeps over my body, wracking me with shuddering satisfaction. The tips of my ears tingle, my tail tingle, my toes tingle—and gods, what the fuck _is_  this?

I open my eyes again, and white ribbons of fluid have burst from my dick—much to my surprise and horror. What the _hell_ did that devil do to me? What happened?

Well, at least I didn’t wet myself, but I am a mess.

“Holy shit,” Verg says, admiringly, stroking my ass softly.

“I’d agree, though perhaps not with your vulgarity. That was most impressive. Especially for our petite virgin kitten here.”

Razel is beside me, gently wiping me down with a cloth, while I stand there, shivering, knees shaking, my tail between my legs, stunned. 

“Wh-what _was_ that? What happened?” I ask, thinking perhaps I dreamed that entire thing.

“That, my kitten, was your first experience with sexual pleasure. Did you enjoy it?”

“Um, I—I don’t know, sir, but I’m very tired now.” A languid sensation covers my body like a blanket, making my limbs feel very heavy.

“I’m sure you are. You did well,” Razel’s low voice praises me. “I’m most impressed. We still have to find you something to wear. Come, sit with me while Verg chooses something that suits you.”

Verg claps his hands together excitedly, rubbing them together once again, and I watch him swagger into the closet. I hear him chattering to himself, something about having more fun than he's had in centuries.

Razel lowers himself onto the floor, pulling me with him. A soft furry sensation brushes my naked skin—I’m sitting on a fluffy floor pillow—I’m still naked, I realize, but my body is too heavy for me to be concerned about it right now.

“Come,” Razel urges, pulling my head into his lap, stroking my ears delicately. It’s such a soft and tender touch, especially compared to the brutal punishment this afternoon. My hands are still throbbing, in fact, my fingers still hurt, and I try not to think about it. Instead, I allow myself to relax in his lap, curling the rest of my body around his form. My tail coils around my body loosely, and occasionally, he casually runs a hand along its length, causing it to lift up and away from my body on its own.

For the most part, however, I am relaxed—extremely so—almost unable to move. As I lie here, I notice a distinct burning sensation on my butt, and it’s extraordinarily uncomfortable. I also feel discomfort when I think about what I _just_ did—whatever it was—I feel embarrassed and ashamed for making those obscene sounds in front of Verg and also performing in front of Razel. My ears heat up when I remember the sounds I was making.

But the feelings that rose up inside me—as a result of those shocks coursing through my body—I couldn’t _help_ it. I couldn’t _help_ making that noise. I feel like there is another creature living inside me, some unknown beast, that craves that sort of touch, and it’s _frightening_. Whatever happens, I will _not_ let it make another appearance. I can understand that it could happen _once_ , but I will _not_ let it take over a second time. I’m _not_ a beast. I’m Ribika. I should act civilized.

I hear a low, quiet chuckle above me, coming from Razel. Glancing up, my eyes half closed, I wonder what he thinks is so funny.

“Confused, are you? I knew you were inexperienced, but _never_ —not in the entirety of my long life—have I come across one quite as inexperienced as you.”

I feel slightly offended at his comment, but I’m not sure how I should respond—especially not without risking punishment. So I keep quiet.

“You and I, we will have some fun together, little one. You’ve been worth the long wait.”

“Long wait?” Again, he’s implied I’ve been expected, and that they _know_ me. Didn’t they collect my person in lieu of taxes? How do they know me here? “Do you know me?”

“It’s nothing to worry your pretty head over,” the soothing voice continues gently as Razel runs his fingers through my hair. My body stiffens uncomfortably at his tone. “Just rest, little one.” He brushes his hands over my eyes, feeling my eyelashes against his fingers, and I have to close them. Once shut, I succumb to the languor remaining in my body.

What even _was_ that? I can’t allow myself to experience something like this again. It makes me _much_ too vulnerable. I feel another shiver run through me—it feels delightful—a memory of the pleasure I just felt—and my heart is stabbed with guilt.

“Shh, just hush. Calm yourself, rest your heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a short rest, Konoe slips into a simple robe and is picked up for the "wardrobe" station by Asato. Asato is rather captivated by Konoe, unaware that Konoe's fur was actually white under all that dirt and grime. He tells him he thinks Konoe is pretty, and Konoe is very embarrassed. Bardo's teasing doesn't help.
> 
> Asato takes him to wardrobe but ends up cornering him, saying that he would protect Konoe from the devils (especially Razel) if he could, but he thinks his interference would make things worse for him. Konoe starts to feel very sick and throws up from anxiety in a restroom along the way. Asato almost seems to expect this and offers the sick kitten water and peppermint before he drops him off (hesitantly) at the wardrobe.
> 
> Things get worse from here when Konoe enters. He finds Razel waiting with another devil, Verg, who decides Konoe looks like a fun treat to play with. Verg also seems to know who he is, and he frightens Konoe quite a bit--but Verg shocks him a few times and decides to show Razel there are many ways to get a kitten to do what you want--other than beating the shit out of him. Konoe ends up feeling desire for the first time, and Verg makes him come with a spanking and through tail play alone, much to the delight of both devils. It leaves poor Konoe terribly confused--because it hurt and felt good at the same time. 
> 
> He decides he hates Verg, however.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of language. Konoe is pissed.

I’m left alone for awhile, after I’m dressed, in my cell.

I’m exhausted.

And I’m ashamed.

This place is so dreary and dark.

Razel called it my room when he dropped me off here, saying he needed to prepare himself for tonight’s event. But it’s not a room. _This_ —this is a _cell_.

I’m afraid.

I curl up on the flat mattress in the corner—shivering in spite of myself. There’s not even a blanket in here, and that’s probably deliberate. It’s probably to humiliate me even further. At least I don’t have to sleep on the cold, hard ground, though.

It’s fucking _cold_ in here.

I’m fucking _angry_.

I know—I owe taxes on the house in Karou. But I’d rather live in the woods, sleeping in trees, living off what I can find, than be here right now. This—I can’t _stand_ this.

My outfit—I think that’s what is the worst.

I might as well be naked. They can’t expect me to go out in public like this. It’s positively indecent. I can’t imagine what Verg must be thinking to choose something like this. I’ve never seen _underclothing_ as indecent as the outfit I’m wearing.

A thought creeps up slowly in the back of my mind—crawling up the nape of my neck like a spider—hinting of what the true nature of my assignment is going to be here. I’m pretty sure, based on this outfit, that I _won’t_ be assigned as a soldier like Asato was.

My legs are exposed, first of all. I’m not given any hose, and these breeches are unlike any breeches I’ve ever seen before. They expose the entire length of my legs. And worse—the ass is open—just—open below the waist. And while technically my privates are covered, if there’s _any_ movement in the front, it’s more than obvious—as Verg was happy to point out.

I thought I could deal with these bottoms if the shirt was big enough to cover me—but... I can’t believe _this_ even counts as a shirt. It covers my shoulders and arms down to my elbows. My chest is bare and exposed, and my upper back is covered to a tiny degree. My abdomen and waist are also completely bare.

Worse still, I’m not given any shoes, so my feet are bare. Why? Just exposing my ankles is rude, isn’t it, so why my bare feet? I don’t want other cats to see my feet. Even if I kneel, I’ll expose the soles of my feet. Are they afraid I might run away? Where can I go? Am I a slave?

My skin looks white in the moonlight. That’s the only light in here right now. Just a few rays come in through the window, shining into the room relentlessly. There’s not even a guiding leaf in this place right now, and my cell is the only one occupied at the moment, though there are empty rooms on either side of me. I see bars ahead of me, and I can’t see down the hall.

Actually, I’m thankful it’s dark. I’m even ashamed of the moonlight shining on my exposed skin, just in here alone on my own.

What if—what Verg did to me earlier—what if _that’s_ what my “services” are going to be? What if I’m going to be a _sex slave_ here? Another sickening feeling rises in my chest, and instantly, I realize, it isn’t just an emotion. I look around desperately, and there’s a bucket in the cell with me. I rush over to it, relieving myself of the remaining contents of my stomach, physically choking on my fear.

I’m vomiting so loudly, so absorbed in this bodily function, that I don’t notice the approach of an unfamiliar presence.

From my position on the floor, I notice the glow of fire—uh—fire!

I startle up on all fours, baring fangs and hissing in surprise and fear. But the torch doesn’t enter my cell. It wavers lightly outside, waiting in silence. Waiting till I’ve finished heaving, a low, dignified voice addresses me.

“Oy, I’ve only ever seen _one_ cat in worse shape than you.”

The tone isn’t unkind, but it sounds cold.

“Then _don’t look_ ,” I snap, not bothering to look up. I wipe the corners of my mouth.

Realizing how much I mean my words, I say them again, “Don’t _look_ at me. No one _asked_ you to. I don’t want you to  _look_ at me.”

“Hou?” I recognize distinct amusement—probably at my expense—in his tone even before he continues. “I was told I should come down and sneak a peek at you before tonight’s event.” I can tell the person speaking is significantly taller than I am, as his voice is projected from far above my usual height. Right now, though, I’m crouched on the floor, lacking any dignity, vomiting into a bucket.

Unable to keep any degree of decorum or respect in my tone whatsoever, I snarl viciously, “Well, was your sneaking curiosity _rewarded_? Have I piqued your _interest_?”

Apparently, I’m not quite done heaving yet, and my ire seems to have increased my anxiety _and_ my illness. I turn my head back to the bucket and unceremoniously barf into it again, having no qualms at all about being extremely loud and gross about it.

“I’m sure”—hack—“this is _exactly_ ”—choke, choke—“what you wanted”—cough—“to see!” My voice echoes strangely in the bucket, resounding in the cell. Then, I feel like I’m finally finished. I'm physically spent.

“Well, your spunk is _certainly_ something to be admired,” his voice is softer and is being projected from much closer to the ground. The light from the torch is much lower as well, as if he is kneeling by the bars. I _know_ he was much taller a few minutes ago. 

Now _my_ curiosity is piqued.

“What the fuck do you _want_?” I’ve vomited up most of my ire along with the contents of my stomach, and my tone is simply full of exhaustion. I glance over my shoulder, toward the source of the light, and I’m stunned into silence for a moment.

It’s a gold cat— _all gold_ —kneeling at the bars. His skin, his hair, his fur. He’s completely gold—shimmering there. I can’t tell what color his clothing is—dark, I think—but his gorgeous hair is long and covers most of it while he kneels there. Why is he on the ground like that? 

I must be hallucinating. I shake my head for a moment to clear it and take another look. Mysteriously, he’s still there. A little shiver crawls up my spine. He’s strangely beautiful.

Wait—what? What the _fuck_ am I thinking?

I instantly drop my eyes to my feet and consider my recent rudeness, both the tone and words.

“Oy, here. This is for you. It’s why I came down here.”

I look up, instantly suspicious. He’s holding something through the bars. His hands are _gold_. What the hell _is_ he? Is he even a cat? Another kind of devil? What is _he_ going to do to me? Although, _maybe_ I wouldn’t mind so much if he did something like Verg did... He’s _amazingly_ gorgeous. I shiver again. _Stop it, Self!_ It must be lingering effects from whatever Verg did to me.

“ _Oy_!” He sounds irritated now. “Are you awake? Move your ass! Get over here!”

I have to obey when he uses that tone. I can’t disobey that imperial tone of voice. He’s gotta be someone important around here— _shit_ —and I had to be _just that rude_ to him! Shit!

I crawl over to the bars, unable to walk, and take the proffered item from his hand. He deliberately brushes my fingers—I think—when I take it. Another shiver runs through my body at his touch.

A small frightened sound escapes my mouth—shit! It’s another _huge_ cat—he’s easily as big as Bardo! _Fuck_! Why didn’t I look before I opened my damned mouth?

“Drink it.”

“Wh-what?” I look up at his face reflexively. He really is beautiful. His hair—it’s so long—it cascades in layers down to his waist, floating around him. It looks like strands of spun gold. I watch, somewhat horrified, as my hand, the one not currently occupied with the flask, reaches out to touch one of the strands floating through the bars. Soft! Like silk. I am unable to stop my hand from doing this.

His face softens its expression, and that eye—just one eye, since the other is cast in an unusual shadow—it looks silver in the light—watches me carefully. The corners of his mouth curve up in a gentle smile, and he repeats himself.

“I said, drink it.”

“Ah—oh,” I pull my hand back quickly, embarrassed, my eyes wide. Did I displease him? _Shit_! I touched his hair! What the fuck is _wrong_ with me? What am I doing? “Uh—“ I don’t want to displease him anymore, so I fumble with the flask, trying to open it.

“You’re exactly as Bardo described.”

“Wh-what?”

“I said,” his voice softens even more, as his hand reaches through the bars, touching the tips of my blushing ears, “you’re exactly like Bardo described you.”

“You know Bardo?”

He blows a deep sigh, which ruffles my hair—I hadn’t realized I was sitting so close to him.And another shiver runs through my body. “Everyone at the castle knows Bardo. He’s such a damned busybody.” He raises his eyebrows and looks down at my hands, which are struggling to open the flask. “Do you require assistance?”

“Ah”—shame courses through my body, and I drop the flask. It’s still closed, fortunately. I manage to scoop it up awkwardly, between my wrists and hand it back through the bars, but I keep my eyes on my hands. In a timid voice, I mutter, “They still aren’t working yet.”

The gold cat takes back the flask from me, but grabs one of my wrists and pulls it through the bars. I flinch, startling when he does this, afraid he may deliberately hurt me, till I realize he is trying to get a look at my hand.

“I just want to take a look,” he says quietly. “I won’t hurt you.” He’s stroking my wrist gently, encouraging me to open my hand, so I relax it, showing him my wounds. He hisses loudly. “The red demon?” He asks. “Here—drink this. Drink it all. I have something else that may help, too.”

Handing the flask back to me, I hold it carefully, taking a sip. The liquid in the flask burns my mouth and throat. I cough and choke as I take the first swallow.

“This is awful.”

“ _All_ of it,” the gold cat replies simply, digging in his bag. He’s pulled out some herbs, and I watch as he pops a few in his mouth and chews them. He watches me choke down the liquid from the flask.

“Can’t draw your claws?” He asks, his mouth full of herbs.

I shake my head.

“A side effect of Razel’s favorite punishment. Did he get your tail, too?”

A shocked sound comes out of my mouth, and I really do choke on that stuff from the flask.

“Oy, oy—are you all right?”

My _tail_? The hell? He is going to hit my _tail_? “My t-tail? W-with the stick? Th-that cane?” My body starts shaking uncontrollably at the thought, and I burst out in a nervous sweat.

“Gods—hey—wait, now,” I feel a soft stroking on my ears, a tender touch, and a powerful arm reaches through the bars, pulling me toward a muscular chest on the other side. Silky hair floats down around me, brushing against my cheeks and my embarrassingly exposed chest as he leans toward me. Waaa—he smells so _good_! “Don’t panic. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Seems you have a lot on your plate as it is.”

I feel something slimy on my hands—eew—green and mushy and slimy—and gross—the fuck? He’s _spitting_ on me! Oh—it’s the herbs he’s chewed up. He presses the goop into my palms and closes my hands into fists.  The herbs squish in between my fingers. The sensation should be nasty and gross, but I strangely (and embarrassingly) find blood is rushing to my lower half.

“To decrease swelling.” Ironic, I think. Since it’s _definitely_  causing another area to become swollen. “Your fingers are swollen, which is why you can’t draw your claws,” he explains. “Try to hide it for later, if you can, in case I can’t treat you again later tonight.”

“Thank you. You’re being very kind. I—I’m—“

”What is it.” It doesn’t really come out as a question. More as a demand—which doesn’t help the situation my lower half is in, either.

“I’m sorry I spoke rudely to you earlier.”

The gold cat makes a sort of rumbling sound in his throat—a growl? A purr?

“Have you finished the flask?”

“Um, almost?”

“Drink it _all_. Here,” he lifts the flask up to my lips, now that my hands are closed around the green goopy stuff. “Just chug it down.”

Seems he’s used to bossing others around, but I don’t disobey. I manage to swallow it down—and realize the ground beneath my body feels much closer than it did just a few minutes ago.

“What _is_ that stuff?”

“‘Catnip liquor, a home brew. If you’ve never had it before, you may start feeling its effects soon. I think tonight will get a little easier for you now. I had someone do this for me, _many_ years ago. I’m just returning the favor.”

“You did? Who?” There’s a short pause—a hesitation—before he answers.

“Your dad.”

“M-my dad?” I must have heard that wrong.

The light from the torch is making shorter shadows. The gold cat is standing up. Wait—he’s leaving? No—Wait—

“I’ll see you soon, Konoe.” Another shiver runs through me when he says my name—wait! He knows my name? And—he knew my dad?

“But who—?”

“‘Keep close to the floor, that catnip liquor is pretty potent, and keep those hands closed.”

“N-no—Wait—Who _are_ you?” I’m desperate to know.

“Rai. I’m Rai.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, we find Konoe in his "quarters," which is actually in a cell of the dungeon. He's shivering and cold, without a blanket, on a flat mattress, dressed in a humiliating skimpy outfit that Verg chose for him for the event this evening. And after all the effects of the shock have worn off, Konoe realizes what his "services" might entail. He's pretty sure his outfit is not designating him for service with the military, that's for sure.
> 
> He starts to get very anxious and scared again and throws up everything left in his stomach--he is provided with a bucket at least.
> 
> That's when he is visited by another guest--a gold cat--or at least, one that looks gold in the torchlight. The visitor said Bardo told him to check him out, and Konoe feels nothing but disgust--and throws up extra loudly into his bucket, asking if the cat is getting the view he wanted. But when he looks up, he realizes the new face is actually quite kind looking. And he's offering him something to drink.
> 
> He also checks out Konoe's hands, which have been caned so severely that he can't draw his claws. While Konoe is drinking the nasty catnip liquor the gold cat has offered--he even reached out to touch his hair, before he could stop himself--the gold cat chews up some herbs and makes a paste for his hands, squishing it in between Konoe's fingers.
> 
> At first, Konoe feels like he should be totally grossed out, but he is moved by the cat's kindness, and also--he kind of feels attracted to this giant pretty cat. He obediently guzzles all of the liquor, which makes him feel quite sleepy, but also helps with his pain, and he likes the feeling of the goop in his fingers--imagining that maybe if it was the gold cat doing things like Verg did to him earlier, he wouldn't hate it.
> 
> Also, the gold cat is familiar with Razel's methods of punishment, and as he gets up to leave, he says he is returning a favor. Someone did this for him many years ago. And that person was Konoe's father, Shui. Before he leaves, Konoe gets him to tell him his name--it's Rai, of course. (He just looks gold because of the light.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: intimidation, threats of punishment and violence, humiliation, forced servitude, punishment.

It occurs to me that I haven’t seen the red demon angry until he returns to collect me for the evening’s activities, whatever those may be. I haven’t been able to move after consuming the flask of catnip liquor. The gold cat was correct in his assessment: my evening has _definitely_ improved. My attitude is much better, my pain is barely perceptible, and my anxiety has faded. I can’t move my body, however. I’m powerless, sprawled out helplessly on the floor.

Also, my hands are much less swollen, and the throbbing in my fingers has disappeared. I’m still unable to draw my claws, however. I’ve been keeping my hands balled into loose fists, the green, slimy mass of herbs seeping in between my fingers. It’s oddly alluring—I can’t get the gold cat’s mouth out of my mind—his lips, specifically, how they looked as he was chewing these herbs, just before he spat into my hands. Strangely, the memory makes my heart race and flutter.

That cat—he told me his name. _Rai._ I can still hear his low dignified voice in my head, even as I notice a torch approaching my cell.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

That isn’t Rai’s voice. That would be Razel’s. His voice is also low, and I should be afraid, but the catnip liquor is still soothing my nerves.

“It’s time for your reception. Get up.”

I am unable to move, however. I moan a little, grumbling, unable to comply. My head is absolutely spinning, but I don’t feel sick, fortunately.

Also, I find I’m not at _all_ self-conscious about my current look, as indecent as it is—not even sprawled out on the ground like this. I’m terribly exposed, I realize, but it’s _hot_ in here. I’d love a drink about now. My body is covered in sweat. Actually, what I really would like is for that gold cat to bring me a drink of nice, cold glass of water right now…

“Oy, _get up_ ,” Razel’s voice has a slightly sharper edge to it. “What’s the matter with you—and what’s that mess in your hands?” The lock on the door makes a clinking sound, and his footsteps approach.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to make the world to stop spinning.

“The ground is spinning,” I say helplessly.

“I said, get on your _feet!_ ” His voice is sharper than I’ve yet heard from him, and he pulls my arm hard enough to pull it out of the socket. I grunt in pain as he pulls me to stand, but my legs don’t hold my weight, and my knees buckle. I sink back down to the ground. It’s ridiculous, and I try not to laugh—but it is kind of funny.

“Are you _laughing_?” The red demon is incredulous. “What the hell is the _matter_ with you?” He grabs my chin, towering over me, looking carefully at my face. Is he smelling me? “Are you _drunk_?”

“Wh-what?” I stammer slightly, unable to focus on his eyes. It looks like they are two of him. That thought temporarily fills me with horror, but I can’t help another little giggle escaping my lips.

He sighs irritatedly. “Who did this to do? What did you drink?”

“The golden cat. Catnip liquor,” I answer honestly.

“Hmmpf.” Razel drops my chin in disgust. “Useless. Utterly useless.” He paces away from me for a moment, then approaches again. “Let me see your hands.”

I show him the herbs, and he blows another disgusted sigh. “Gods, you'd better keep those hands away from me and away from your body. I’ll have to clean them up now. Disgusting. If you get that stuff on anything, you’ll be severely punished.”

My body really starts to sweat, just from his words, and I lose my orientation entirely when he picks me up off the floor. He throws me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, my entire upper body hanging upside down, my head brushes against his red hair against his back.

“If you get even a _smidgeon_ of that herbal paste in my hair, I’ll punish you. And then, I’ll beat you again publicly. Do you hear me?” To emphasize his point, he slaps my ass hard—which is currently conveniently exposed and right at his shoulder. It hurts—and I yelp in response.

My upper body sways softly as Razel starts walking out of my cell. I try to keep my hands as far from his as possible, but even I noticed  I had to hold onto something when he slapped my ass like that.

“You could just punish me now, in advance, to discourage me,” I suggest snidely, shocked at the words I hear coming from my mouth, unable to stop them. “However, if you did, I might open my hands and grab hold of your legs to steady myself and accidentally smear the rest of this shit all over your outfit.”

I stop swinging quite suddenly, probably because Razel freezes in his tracks. I feel a large, warm open palm come to rest right on my ass, rubbing it almost tenderly. I can feel him breathing, and I’m suddenly _really_ afraid. Why did I have to open my big fat mouth? What did I _do_ that? His low voice speaks sternly.

“You _really_ must be drunk out of your mind, little one. Have you forgotten your place already? Who exactly do you think you’re talking to in that manner? Who do you think you are, taking that tone with me? I don’t care _how_ much you’ve had to drink. You are _not_ to take that kind of tone with me— _ever_.”

His tone sends shivers of fear through my body, which I’m sure he can feel since he is holding me this way. I hear another sigh—in fact, I feel his breath blowing against my tender skin. He starts walking again.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. We don’t have time for this.”

In a few moments, he stops, putting me down on a bench.

“Hold out your hands and open them.” His voice is even and calm, like always, but there’s a fire behind his eyes that frightens me. Is he still angry about my tone? Should I apologize? Grovel? I really don’t want to. Honestly, I _really_ don’t give a shit right now. But I obey, reluctantly, holding out my hands.

“No, hold them away from your body, so you don’t get this shit everywhere.”

A small shock runs through me. He just said the word “ _shit_.” Doesn’t _this_ demon consider words like that vulgar? I move my hands away from my body immediately, but the fact that he even _said_ that word concerns me. I watch as my hands are rinsed off—and I wiggle my sausage-shaped fingers tenderly under the water, and shiver. He is pissed. I dare to peek up at him for a moment, but I still can’t really focus on his face.

“Oy, keep your hands still!” He raises his voice, and I flinch in fear, trying to obey. Some of the water splashes on his boot. I inhale sharply. Shit! Maybe he didn't notice, but it splashed because I flinched. I lower my ears and keep my head down.

He blows another sigh while he roughly dries my hands with a towel. He’s deliberately being rough with my fingers, pulling them away from my hands, rubbing on the welts still standing on my palms, and that hurts—tears form in my eyes, but I’m determined not to cry.

“My _boot_ , little one. What are you going to do about it?” His voice is still irritatingly calm.

Taking the towel from his hands, I tentatively drop to my knees and try to dab off the splashed water from his boot. It’s fucking _water_ on his _boot_. It’s hardly noticeable, and it will dry on its own. But the towel does nothing—maybe it even makes it _more_ noticeable, since the towel is wet. I keep working, but honestly, it looks even worse after my efforts.

At the spur of the moment, as a last-ditch effort, I lean down and kiss his boot, looking up at him through my eyelashes as I do so. It’s the _last_ thing I want to do—so humiliating—but what other choice do I have? I think about that cane he carries with him, terrified of it, and I don’t know what else I can do at this point.

I stay low to the ground, keeping my face pressed to the floor—mostly because I can’t do anything else. The liquor is still affecting me strongly.

Another annoyed sigh issues from above me.

“Very well. You’d better behave yourself. Come now,” I lose my orientation once again, and Razel scoops me up from the floor, carrying me in the same undignified way, hoisted over his shoulder. My face is against his back, and I can’t see where we’re going since my head is hanging upside down and swaying. I submit—I don’t have any energy in my body, so there’s not much else I can do. I think I hear him mutter the word, “useless,” as he continues walking a little farther.

We enter a large area a few minutes later. My ears twitch in the open space, and the air feels cool against my body. I can tell there are a lot of people in the room, and normally, I’d be devastated. I’m being carried like this, first of all, ass first, into a room filled with cats who outrank me, and I don’t know a soul. Second, I’m dressed like this—on purpose—to be humiliated. Third, my services are going to be offered to someone here—and the gods only know _what_ those services are going to be. Fourth, there are _demons_ in here—at least two, maybe more. Fifth, I was caned earlier, and the stripes on my ass and the palms of my hands are clearly visible to everyone who wants to take a look.

However, the catnip liquor has done its job really well.

I don’t care about _any_ of that stuff. Really. I feel pretty relaxed. My heart rate is slightly elevated, but honestly, it’s because I have a strange longing to lay my eyes on that golden cat again.

What _is_ this that I’m feeling, anyway?

It’s strange—like when Verg was playing with my body earlier today—when he was sending those shocks through me—I feel blood rushing into my lower half—I actually feel… _horny_. Is that what this is?

What the fuck?

Do I _like_ that gold cat? Do I _like_ Rai? Am I _attracted_ to him?

That isn’t possible! It must just be because he was kind to me and because I was suffering from so much humiliation caused by Verg and Razel.

Although—my feelings now—especially now that my groin is being heavily pressed against Razel’s shoulder—I really can’t deny these sensations. What _is_ this?

My heart flutters, my ears twitch and my tail fluffs out. I think I'm drooling. Another little shiver runs through my body.

“What’s _this_ ,” I hear Razel’s deep voice and feel his hand rubbing my ass, and rubbing the base of my tail. “What’s going _on_ here.” Another shudder goes through my body, and an indecent sound is squeezed from my lungs.

It’s _got_ to be the liquor. What is _wrong_ with me? I’m starting to feel just a little nervous.

Razel puts me down, almost dropping me, unceremoniously, on something that feels soft. Is it a mattress? There’s a bed in here? What the hell? No—thank the gods. It’s a fuzzy blanket—a large pillow, perhaps—black, it looks like—and it's soft and warm. I lie down on it, gratefully, curling up my body.

He sits himself down on the chair next to the pillow I’m lying on. Again, it looks like he’s perched on a throne. He eyes me for a moment—there’s a warning in that look, reminding me he could _easily_ pull me across his lap if he wanted, and I shudder. I look away in terror but find I'm instantly distracted. When I look around, I realize the room is _filled_ with cats. There are more cats here than I’ve ever seen, all dressed in their best court clothes. Elegant finery, jewels, hair accessories, and fur brushed out and styled in fancy braids, fancy shoes. They wander around, eating what looks like delicious food from trays

 _Food_. I look at the food with longing. I’m _starving_. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, and all I’ve ingested is a little pool water (which I’ve thrown up) and the catnip liquor.

I look up at Razel, and he is now ignoring me. I raise myself to my knees, and I teeter a little. Razel _still_ doesn’t look my way, though many other cats do, and I realize I’m drawing a lot of attention to myself.

Again, normally, I would crouch down in shame—hiding because of this shameful outfit—but because of the catnip liquor, I don’t do that. I’m hungry, but I’m too intoxicated to stand up and walk over to the hand-carried trays. Instead, I try to catch the eye of someone standing close to the tray, and I look at the tray with sincere longing.

I also am scanning the room for Rai. For that gold cat. Is he here? He said he would be. But I don’t see him.

Ah—here comes someone now. Dressed in all black, shining black—with green hair— _green_? Strange—and he has... _horns_. And a wiry tail. My heart drops to my feet. Ah— _another_ devil? He approaches me with a look of absolute delight on his face. It gives me the willies. I am trembling before he even opens his mouth, and I crouch my body down low. I realize this may look like a bow, but I'm truly afraid.

“Razel,” he greets the red demon, who nods politely. “Won’t you introduce me to the new recruit?”

“Froud, he _won’t_ be joining the guard. I’m sure you’ll have no interest in him.”

“Ah—but even the soldiers and knights need rest and relaxation every now and then, don’t they?” His creepy smile gives me chills. “He looks like he could provide anyone with a little comfort and a wonderful time. I hear one of my soldiers is already head over tail for him, in fact. I can understand why.”

“Indeed,” Razel agrees. “This is Konoe. Konoe of Karou.”

“This? _This_ is Konoe?” Froud looks at me more closely. “But—there’s nothing to him. He’s just a little thing.” How would he know me?

“Do you... know me?” I ask curiously.

Froud laughs. “Not exactly, but we’ve been expecting you.”

“How? What do you mean? I don’t understand!” People keep saying that!

“Little kitty, perhaps it isn’t for you to understand just yet,” the black devil reaches out a hand, stroking my ears. “Ah, now, aren’t these soft?” I can’t help but flick my ears away from his touch. “So _shy_ , too. Just lovely. Perhaps I will spend some time with you later. You can experience my joy.” That last phrase is spoken very quietly.

“Joy?” I ask suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean just what I say,” Froud says. “I’m the devil of joy, of course.” He laughs quietly. “Enjoy your debut, little one.” Addressing Razel, “I want it.”

Razel inclines his chin toward Froud slightly in acknowledgment. “I’ll add you to the list.”

“Thank you.” He waltzes away from us, a swing in his slow stride. He _really_ gives me the creeps. What kind of joy would he be reigning over, I wonder?

I peek my eyes up at Razel. I wonder what Froud was talking about, what he wanted from me. Then I boldly ask, “Is the gold cat here?”

“Gold cat?” Razel replies casually, looking down his nose at me, irritated that I would dare open my mouth. “There are no gold cats at this palace.”

“Ah,” I mumble, looking down again. I know he’s here _somewhere_. I feel another soft touch to my ears, which startles me—I hadn’t sensed anyone approach. Whoever it is, standing behind me, has _completely_ silent footsteps.

“Lord,” Razel dips his head. “Meet our newest recruit, Konoe of Karou.”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Konoe,” the voice drifts softly into my ears, and I don’t dare turn my head. I remain silent, frozen in place, afraid to even look. The tone of voice—something about it—is _terribly_ familiar, and it strikes fear into my heart. It's a strong voice, and I can't place it. But I know I've heard it before.

“Show your respect to the Lord of Ransen, Konoe,” Razel says, sharply.

I remain frozen, in fear, unable to move. I _know_ I should obey, but fear prevents me from moving. I feel sick to my stomach again—the terror is so strong. I don’t know what I’d be doing if I weren’t currently high on catnip liquor, and I’m thankful for the extra strength.

I hear a whoosh in my ears, followed by loud cracking sound, directly behind me—something has struck the floor—and then suddenly, I shriek loudly in pain. The noise from my mouth is loud, shrill, and sudden. My _tail_ has been struck with Razel’s cane—and the pain zips all the way up my spine quite harshly, in a way I didn’t think was possible.

I’ve never been struck like this before—and in the same way I’d never had my tail pleasured, the pain it causes is _exquisite_. The blow is precise, but the nerves travel in both directions: to the tip of my tail and into my hips and groin, nearly knocking the wind out of me, well _after_ the initial strike. Tears squeeze from of my eyes, and I’m instantly unfrozen, in absolute _terror_ of another blow. I force my body down into a position of obeisance, my head lowered, my arms in front of me in the lowest bow I can manage, more like flattening my body against the floor than a bow, my breaths coming out in rough, forced sobs.

“Ah, wonderful. That is perfect. He responds well to physical encouragement, I see,” the strangely familiar voice says. The hand remains on my ears, strangely stroking them tenderly. “Quite a lovely specimen, too. I see some similarities, and his voice is very nice.”  
  
My voice? When did he hear my voice?

“It is indeed. Quite familiar, I think,” the red demon replies. “I don’t need to add that your assessment of him was correct.”

“Of course,” the Lord’s voice says.

Should I beg him to release me from my obligation? It doesn’t sound like that was what he’s talking about. It’s him I owe, though, right? From my position on the floor, keeping my head down, I lick my lips, swallow my fear, and I plead sincerely, from my heart.

“Sir, Lord,” my voice is very quiet.

“He speaks!” the voice sounds almost like he’s poking fun at me.

“Ah—um—Lord,” gathering my confidence, “About the taxes I owe—couldn’t you just take my home in Karou and call it even?”

There’s a small silence. I’ve noticed the room has gotten deathly quiet as well.

“Excuse me?” The voice asks me.

“Well, you see, sir, Lord, I didn’t even know I _owed_ taxes till today. I’ve been living alone, on my own, since my mother passed away when I was only five years old. She didn’t have a chance to teach me about taxes—where to pay, how much, or even how to get the money to pay. I just didn’t know. The other cats in my village avoided me, yet I still managed to survive. However, if you took my home, I could live in the forest, living off what I find there. I would stay out of your way, cause you no trouble.”

Another deathly quiet pause. Have I miscalculated something? He _is_ the one I owe, after all.

“Konoe of Karou, who do you think _owns_ the forests? Who owns the forests of Sisa, in which you would be hunting and sleeping?”

I hadn’t considered the forests to be anyone’s property. Do they belong to him as well?

“Um. I don’t really know. Are they _your_ property as well?” I hazard a guess, probably better than saying I think the forests belong to all the cats of Sisa, which is what I truly believe. My voice is very timid, and I don’t dare raise my face.

“They are _indeed_ my property. You would simply be stealing from me in another way. Of course, your home in Karou is already mine. Not being aware of a law is not a reason to be excused from it. Consider this—a cat who is unaware that murder is a crime kills another cat. Should not that cat be punished for murder?”

“Well, I suppose yours is an extreme example. And yes, that cat has _injured_ another cat, causing him physical harm. Did my lack of taxes cause you physical harm?"

“It _did_ injure me, causing me harm—risking me personally physical harm  _as well as_  the entire estate of Ransen!” the voice booms, making me cringe and my ears fold back in terror. “You are yet young and do _not_ understand what it means to govern! I could have used the taxes you paid to gain interest over the past eleven years, and then I would now have funds to pay the soldiers to maintain the laws, the counties to maintain the roads, and the court systems to maintain justice.”

I am very quiet for a moment, quivering with my tail between my legs, still in my subservient position. I wasn't aware of this, although, I wonder what is true and what he is making up. How much was I really suppose to come up in taxes to have this kind of effect? I haven’t dared to look at this Lord yet, except for his boots.

“I—I—I apologize for my assumptions. I have nothing of worth to you, sir, I have no skills. I have nothing with which to serve you. I do not know how I can be of use to you here. I know nothing of governance. Forgive me, Lord.” I keep my head very low.

After another moment, the Lord speaks again.

“I appreciate your humility, kitten. We will find a place for you here, Konoe. I am sure of it.”

I feel my heart sinking at those words. He speaks over my head to Razel next.

“He is a lovely creature. Have him sent to me tonight. And put me on the list.”

Razel inclines his head—I notice his hair moving. What is this cat going to _do_ to me? I’m afraid—I don’t want to spend time with him alone! Then, the black boots depart, and I keep myself in position.

“That was either very, very brave or very, very stupid,” comments Razel. “Either way, you’ve made quite an impression on the Lord.”

My tail still hurts, and I keep it wrapped up around my body, as much as I can. He can’t strike it again if I keep it close to my body.

Another pair of boots approaches, and I hear a familiar dignified voice.

“So, how was _that_ meeting? It looks like it went well.”

It’s the gold cat! Instantly, I look up—and I’m shocked by his appearance.

He _isn’t_ gold. _Not at all._ He is blindingly _silver_. His skin is very pale—paler than mine and his hair is silver, floating wildly around his body. It doesn’t stay still, even as he stands quietly, floating and waving softly all the way down to his waist. I want to touch it—so much!—I know it’s soft as silk. But it’s _silver_ , not gold.

His fur is white—pure white—and his ears are small in size, especially compared to mine, and they are slightly rounded, covered in fluffy white fur. And his bushy  _tail_ —it’s beautiful, with long, thick, lush fur. It sways back and forth as he stands before me.

He’s dressed in dark blue and black—more formal than what he was wearing before—and when I look at his face—chiseled cheekbones, full lips (those lips that were chewing the herbs before), and his eye—I’m shocked again. He’s wearing an eyepatch over his right eye. Only his left eye is showing, and it’s pale _blue_ in color, not silver.

This _has_ to be the same cat as earlier. He just isn’t gold. It must have been a trick of the light, making him look gold?

“You—you’re silver?” I ask—the words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

He looks at me curiously, leaning down to look at my eyes a little more closely, and then bending his knees, getting into a squat. He is a giant cat—nearly twice my size. Even when squatting next to me, the difference in our sizes is hugely apparent.

Another little shiver goes through my body when he’s this close to me, and there are no bars between us this time. Is it the effects of the liquor? The fact that he was kind to me? My tail loosens from my body and sways in a wide arc. I can’t help it. I’m _glad_ to see him. And… he smells so good! Clean—fresh—and powerful.

“You are very drunk,” he whispers conspiratorially, in my ear. When he whispers, it moves the downy fur deep within my ear, tickling me. It makes me shudder, and my tail arcs widely again. 

Suddenly, another piercing pain runs through my tail—Razel has struck me again—and I cry out loudly, tears bursting from my eyes. Pain shoots both up to the tip of my tail and down to its base, running all the way to my back. I jump in surprise. It’s so sudden—and I am shocked by it—taken aback and completely unprepared. It was cruel and mean, and the strike was unnecessary! I don’t even know what I was _supposed_ to be doing! I look at Razel in shock, my face full of pain and hurt.

“ _Respect_ , little one. Show your respect,” Razel says, his voice even. “When I introduce you to a noble who outranks you, you need to show respect. This is Rai, who holds the rank of Earl, second only to the Lord you just met. Bow.”

I bow, sobbing quietly, realizing that Razel isn’t aware I’ve already met Rai. Or, if he is, he is pretending he not to be.

“My apologies, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I choke out quietly, through my sobs, looking at my hands through my tear-stained lashes, curling my injured tail safely around my body again. 

“You know this is _unnecessary_ ,” Rai says sharply to the demon. “You know I _hate_ to see this. Especially… _that_.”

“Do you?” Razel’s voice is quite even and calm. “You _say_ you hate it. However, I noticed you couldn’t help looking over here earlier. I wonder if it’s something more than curiosity. Perhaps it reminds you of—”

“That’s enough,” Rai speaks sharply. “I’ll hear no more from you. Has the Lord already spoken for him?”

 “He has.”

“I’ll see him afterward, no matter the time, and put me on the list as well.”

“I see,” Razel says. “His list is getting quite long.”  
  
“I have no doubt he will be mine.”

“You’re quite confident.” 

“Of course,” the silver cat answers. My ears tingle when I hear him speak. I want to go with him now. “I’d like to see you kinder to him. His small stature requires it.” 

“I’d like to see him comply, in that case.”

“He’s _more_ than compliant! He’s young—and it’s his first day. You ought to keep in mind to whom you’re speaking. I’ll interfere if I have to.”

“I see you already have,” Razel answers smoothly.

I feel another touch to my ears—it's gentle—Rai’s hands. He whispers, “You’re doing very well. Hang in there. I’ll see you soon.”

And then I sense him stand up. But before he walks away, I feel another silken touch—surprisingly, on my ass, which is exposed to the air as I’m bowing before him. I think it’s his tail touching me.

He leans down again and whispers in my ear, “I forgot to mention when I saw you earlier, _nice outfit._ It suits you.” 

I can’t _believe_ he’d say such a thing—openly. I look up at his face, just for a second, and he’s smiling at me. Is he _teasing_ me? Here? Now? About _this_? I can’t believe it. I feel a blush rising up to my ears.

“Your ears!” A shocked sound sputters from of his mouth with his words. “They turn pink!” He touches them again.

I look back down at the floor. Very, very quietly, I whisper, “Go away. Don’t look at me. I don’t want to hear it.”

I suddenly remember that silver cat Asato and Bardo were talking about, the one who doesn’t blush. It’s _him_ , isn’t it?

I take one more look, through lowered lashes, watching him as he saunters off, as he turns back to look at me with a smile on his face, and then I stare down at the floor, completely embarrassed. I guess that catnip liquor only works so far. I peek up again subtly, and watch him as the evening progresses—he keeps himself within a short distance. He had really nice, long muscular legs. And ugh—why am I even noticing _that_?

I’m introduced to several other cats—but I don’t remember their names. I do not care. They are added to my Razel's mysterious list as well. Bardo and Asato both come to say hello as well—and I’m ashamed as Asato gapes openly at my outfit. He almost _drools_ when he looks at me. It makes me a little nervous.

I get pretty tired as the evening wears on, and I’m actually thankful to be on my knees. However, I notice the crowd start to thin out, and soon, Razel tells me it’s time to go.

Then, and _only_ then, do I remember that the _Lord_ asked for me. I start to feel nervous, my heart climbing up to my throat. Now, I’m very glad I didn’t get anything to eat. I would probably be throwing up if I had!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Razel is PISSED when he finds Konoe drunk off his ass, and even angrier when he sees the grime in his hands, but it almost expected it. He threatens to beat the shit out of Konoe if he gets even a little bit in his hair or on his outfit.
> 
> But he carries Konoe into a ballroom filled with cats wearing way more clothes than Konoe is wearing after cleaning him up, but the catnip liquor is serving its purpose. Konoe doesn't give a shit. In fact, he'd really like to see the gold cat again, but Razel says there are no gold cats who serve at the castle. He finds it necessary to cane the kitten's tail to get him to obey.
> 
> People around him are eating food, but of course, Konoe gets nothing. He is introduced to several people, including Froud--another devil who makes Konoe quite nervous, despite his cheery disposition--and Master Leaks, the Lord of the castle himself.
> 
> Konoe decides to plead for his release with Leaks. While Leaks is impressed that he would dare speak to him, he mentions that if Konoe didn't live here or in Karou, he'd be living off of HIS forests and lands. So in that case, Konoe would be stealing from him. He'd in a sense be no better than a murderer. The comparison confuses Konoe, but he submits, and Leaks decides he'd like to spend time with Konoe alone that evening.
> 
> Then--Rai shows up. He teases Konoe for being drunk, and Konoe isn't exactly respectful--he doesn't know, but Rai is introduced as the Earl of the castle, and Leaks' heir. He's quite surprised. He's also surprised to see that Rai looks more silver than gold, and also surprised at how nice he smells. Rai barks at Razel for beating Konoe so much, saying it isn't necessary and asks to see him later on that evening.
> 
> The rest of the evening drags on, Konoe gets bored--until he realizes he has to go spend time with the Lord of the Castle.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Intimidation, threat of punishment, punishment, beating. Explicit language.

At least I can control my body enough to walk again when we leave the large ballroom. My steps weave heavily, but I’m walking on my own. Razel is displeased with my speed, however, and because I’m not exactly excited about where we’re headed, I don’t rush. He keeps throwing remarks over his shoulder, “Pick up your pace,” or, “Move those feet,” and finally, “Do you need a _reminder_ to comply with my order?” To that comment, I actually try my _best_ to keep up, but Razel is much taller than I am, and he has a longer stride. I sway dizzily, and I know he sees I’m struggling.

At one point, he stops suddenly, and I don’t notice in time to stop my staggering feet, which causes me to crash into his back. The corridor is dimly lit, and we’ve already walked up three flights of steps, so I’m exhausted. Ugh—I’ve pissed him off _for sure_ this time, and I tremble in fear, afraid to look up. I’m about to throw myself at his feet—at his mercy—but before I can say anything— 

He violently grabs my chin and tilts it upward, forcing me to look at his face and pushing my body up against the wall. While his voice is even and calm, the heat in his eye is terrifying. This devil scares the living _shit_ out of me. My tail remembers the last few excruciating blows from his cane, and it automatically coils itself tightly in a ball, hiding itself from his view, pressing itself between my lower back and the wall behind me.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you this evening, but I’m quite displeased with your attitude. I don’t care if it’s an effect of the catnip liquor that meddler gave you—what happens to you over the next few hours is _none_ of his concern. Keep in mind, you have _earned_ everything coming to you. Do you hear me?”

A shiver runs through my back and shoulders as he says these words. Tears burn my eyes, and the injustice of the current situation rises up in my chest and throat and threatens to leak out of my mouth. I’m not here because I _want_ to be! I can’t help my situation!

The grip on my jaw tightens, and Razel brings his face closer to mine. The sharp tips of his fangs shine brightly over his full lips. His voice lowers in both pitch and volume when he repeats the phrase. 

“I said, _do you hear me?_ ”

His lowered voice cows my indignation to such a degree that I’m able to rein it in. I nod my head, keeping eye contact with the frightening beast before me. My entire body is trembling. He uses intimidation to make me behave how he wants, and it doesn’t take much effort on his part, I realize with aggravation.

Maintaining the same frightening low volume and pitch, as well as eye contact, Razel continues, “I’d like a _verbal_ acknowledgment of your understanding, kitten.” 

“I—I—I understand,” I manage to stammer, swallowing my fear, my pride, my annoyance, and the injustice of the entire situation. I purposely maintain eye contact during the interaction. Hopefully, he will let this go and we can just get on with it, but to my surprise, he maintains his grip—in fact, I feel sharp claws scratching into the soft skin of my face. 

His other hand comes up, brushing the hair away from my eyes, so he can get a clearer look at them. I still refuse to blink.

“You have a significant degree of anger in your heart about the situation in which you currently find yourself—as much anger, in fact, if not more, than fear. I find it rather _captivating_.”

The hand he used to brush my hair away from my face now caresses my cheek softly. The touch confuses me—and I realize, it causes a flash of anger to burst through my chest. What right does he have to intimidate me and then caress me like a lover might? How dare he beat me so brutally, then fondle me like this?

Without thinking, my hand flies up and knocks that molesting hand away from my face, an impulsive action in the heat of the moment—and I realize my mistake too late. It’s easy to recognize my error from the expression of the demon before me, whose head tilts slightly to the right, showing renewed fascination, the formerly mild flame behind his eyes now blazing brightly.

“ _What_ was that?” His low voice almost purrs, obvious delight in his tone. “Did you just _reject_ my touch? Is _that_ what you thought you would do? You believe you have the right to _reject_ the touch of your betters? Your timing couldn’t be more perfect, considering you’re about to visit the Lord.”

His words fall over me like a bucket of ice, and I instantly drop to my knees, throwing myself on his mercy. I don’t _wish_ to ask for forgiveness, because I’m really _not_ sorry for my actions. However, I do _not_ wish to be subjected to another punishment. I don’t think I can handle another beating today. I _have_ to be able to get out of this.

“I—I apologize,” I stammer, searching desperately for words that will sound sincere, something to talk myself out of punishment. “I was afraid, have been afraid all evening, have been touched all evening, as I have lived alone, up till today. I was overwhelmed with all these cats and their touching. I’m so sorry, I was out of line and confused.”

From my kneeling position at his feet, keeping my head down, I look up through my lashes, checking to see if my pleas are having the desired effect. I think I’m doing quite well. What I see, however, is _not_ at all promising.

Razel looks like he is positively _steaming_. He has a thin smile on his face, his fangs peeping over of his lips, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. He is watching me with an almost eager look in his eye.

“Go on, little one. Anything _else_ you’d like to add?” His voice remains low and even, and his tone is so cold it sends shivers through my spine.

“Uh, p- _please_ ,” I stutter, completely taken aback. I was thinking he’d be at least a _little_ moved, but I’ve had no effect. He shows no emotion— _nothing_ at all. “Um, I’m so sorry. _Please_.” I lean down and kiss his boots since that worked before. “And, um, d-don’t I need to be taken to the Lord’s chambers?”

“Oh, this _correction_ shouldn’t take long. There are _some_ matters I’m sure he would appreciate me dealing with before we arrive. _This_ is one of them. The Lord prefers _compliant_ servants, not rebellious ones, not manipulative ones, not kittens with devious plans in their hearts, filled with anger and feelings of injustice.”

A small noise comes out of my mouth when I hear those words. I don’t look up. I can't. _How did he know?_ I haven’t said anything! Did he read my mind? My vision trembles a little bit, even from my place on the floor, and I feel an invasive fear surrounding my heart that I have never known. Can he read my thoughts? That terrifies me.

“Now, if you’re finished with your fake groveling, stand up and face the wall.”

Another frightened noise comes out of my mouth—and I’m unable to move. “Ahhh—please, _please_ , no. I can’t— _please_ … sir, _please_!” Tears are burning my eyes, and fear is taking over. I remain currently glued to the floor on my knees, my head bent in obeisance at his feet, hoping I can change his mind. Just in case he doesn’t, I’ve wrapped my tail around my body, and it’s currently coiled up protectively between my legs.

“Stand up and face the wall, or face _severe_ consequences, kitten.”

The fact that his voice doesn’t change scares me even more. My heart is racing so fast that my chest aches. Words and sounds issue from my mouth, frightened noises mixed with pleas: 

“Please, ah, _please_ , don’t hurt me anymore today, sir—ah—I’ve learned my lesson, sir—ah— _please_ , I will obey you and the Lord for the rest of the evening—ah—pushing you away was simply an action done in the heat of the moment, and—ah—I couldn’t control myself— _please_ —ah—please, _please_ ”— 

Suddenly, I sense a sharp wind blowing past my ears, which frightens me and makes my hair stand on end—my body understands what it is before my mind realizes—and I ready my ass for the blow, which doesn’t come. Instead of my ass receiving the cane, the bare soles of my _feet_ are soundly struck.

My feet are unprotected and relaxed, and I was completely unaware that they could be a target for punishment. I had them out in the open, vulnerable. The cane strikes the arches of both feet simultaneously, which makes a rather impressive sound similar to when my palms were struck earlier. And the pain it causes—holy shit—my knees press together in shock when the pain shoots up to my ankles, and also travels out into my toes and pools there heavily, continuing to throb to the beat of my heart.

I scream loudly upon impact but am unable to move from my position, left shaking and shuddering. I can’t touch my injury because they continue to throb intensely and touching them would be unbearable. My knees knock together quietly on the floor, my thighs tremble, and my upper body doesn’t know what to do. 

“Do you need another reminder, or are you going to stand up and face the wall?”

I try to comply, but my legs tremble so much from the blow that I can’t get them to function. Before I can bring myself to stand, I hear the whistling of the cane a second time, and I feel another slap against the soles of my feet.

The blow tears a sobbing scream from my throat and knocks me back to my original position on the floor. My chest hurts from the exquisite agony, now shooting up to my knees.

“P-please,” I beg, desperate through my tears. “Sir, please. I’m _trying_ to comply, but my legs—the pain—the pain is too great to withstand.”

“Is it?” Razel asks, in the same low voice. “Perhaps _this_ is what is required to remind you of your place, then?”

“N-no— _please_! No!” I yell, just before the third wallop comes down, and I scream again—unable to withstand it. This time, the pain runs up past my knees into my thighs, and I press my hands in between my thighs in desperation, as though to push the pain back down into my lower legs, in order to keep it from traveling higher.

“No? Did you say the word _no_? That is _not_ a word I wish to hear from your mouth.”

Another blow lands quickly and smoothly, in the same place on the arches of my poor unprotected feet—and my toes are swollen and red. My entire body is shaking now, and I am covered in tears.

“P- _please_! I—I—I am so sorry,” I cry desperately. “ _Please_ , just give me a chance, _please_!” The torture from that last blow has traveled even further north now, into my sensitive groin area— _how can this be happening?_ —and further into my stomach, making me feel absolutely sick to my stomach. I feel like I’m going to vomit. “I will stand, I will _try_ to stand. I just need a moment to collect myself.”

I struggle and struggle, but my legs are weak and trembling, and my feet are not cooperating.

“Kitty, your feet are in no shape to carry your weight now,” Razel points out. “You might as well accept the rest of your punishment right where you are. Acknowledge your defeat. It’s a hard lesson to learn, I realize, but it’s a good thing you learn so well with your body.”

Whack! Another blow to my feet sends pain shooting into my ass and stomach now, and it loosens my tail, which is now undulating wildly, unable to maintain its position behind my lower back.

“Please,” I beg, my voice quiet. My body now almost prone, I’m still on my knees with my arms out in front of my body. “ _Please_. F-forgive my insolence. I’ll n-never step out of line again. _Please_. Forgive me. _Please_.” 

Smack!

My ears twitch in response to the slightly different sound, and I realize the soles of my feet were spared this time. However—an intensely sharp, twisted pain shoots through my tail, and I shriek loudly, tears streaming down my face.

While blows to my feet are excruciating, a blow to my tail feels more like a kick to the crotch. It is a personal, almost sexual pain, and it knocks the wind from my lungs. I struggle to breathe. My body shakes, and my tail quivers.

“I want to see your tail stretched out flat behind you like your feet are currently exposed.” Razel’s smooth voice commands.

If I obey, I would be giving him access— _free access_ —to hit my tail as much as he likes. But he could just force me as well if he wanted. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t think when my body is suffering. If I disobey, won’t he continue beating me until I comply?

Smack! Another blow to the arches of my feet make my toes twitch, and I cry out again. This time, I comply with his command. I move as low to the ground as possible, and I stretch out my quivering tail across the ground, extending it out straight and flat behind me.

“Good kitty,” Razel purrs. “ _This_ is the kind of compliance I want to see.” I don’t know if it’s to reward me or to punish me further, but he swiftly brings the cane down five times in rapid succession, all on slightly different areas of my tail. I have to struggle to keep my tail in place, to keep it from flinching away. 

I’m screaming by the third blow, sobbing uncontrollably by the fifth.

After the fifth hit to my tail, he whacks my feet several times the same way—I manage to count five, but the pain is so great that it could have been more or less.

My shoulders are heaving with effort, my tail is lying limply, and I am crying earnestly when he is finished. My knees continue to knock together, my thighs quivering, and my entire body trembling. When I feel an unexpectedly warm and soft touch against my exposed ass—I think it’s his hand—he rubs me softly, and I am unnerved. 

“You did quite well,” Razel murmurs. He’s told me I’ve done well more times than I can count today, yet he’s still beating the shit out of me. I’m still sobbing quietly, unable to stifle my tears. I can’t move my tail, and I can’t stand. The soles of my feet are throbbing, and my toes ache like my fingers did earlier. I didn’t even _know_ that a person could be beaten this way. I am completely broken, and I just allow the touch, and perhaps—maybe just a little—it soothes me because it _isn’t_ as cruel as being beaten with the cane. 

To my utter surprise, he crouches down beside me, takes my chin in his hands, and he kisses me full on the mouth—despite my sobbing, despite my tears. It’s the _first_ time I’ve been kissed—the first time anyone has _ever_ kissed me on the mouth, though I remember he kissed my ears earlier today after he beat me so thoroughly in the courtyard. Reflexively, I clamp my lips together, but I feel sharp claws on my jaw, and he pulls away.

“No, little one. When I kiss you, relax your jaw and open your mouth. Allow me entrance. Always permit a tender touch when it’s offered, since you don’t know what may follow otherwise.”

His words frighten me more than I can say, so I immediately comply with his demand when he takes my mouth again, relaxing my jaw, and his tongue enters my mouth. It’s such a strange feeling—I don’t hate it, but it feels invasive and controlling. I want to pull away, but I don’t. I feel like he is _tasting_ me, he wants to devour me, and it makes me terribly ill-at-ease. His tongue skates over my teeth, my fangs, my tongue, feeling it out, exploring it, sampling it, filling my mouth with his much larger tongue, yet he’s surprisingly gentle.

When he finally pulls away from my mouth, he kisses my face—and I realize he is actually licking my tears—tasting them. I find it both oddly curious and repugnant. He is savoring the results of my pain. 

His eyes meet mine, and that blaze that was burning so brightly earlier has cooled slightly, shifted into something else—it’s still burning, but it isn’t with anger or wrath. It looks like _passion_. Does this devil _desire_ me? A shudder runs through my helpless body, and I suddenly realize how vulnerable I am right now.

“I believe you’ve learned your lesson, have you not?” His quiet voice asks.

Looking down at my hands, still prone on the floor, I murmur softly, “Yes, sir. Thank you.” I take a quick peek up at him through my lashes, to see if my answer is sufficient, or if I need to do or say something more.

Razel beams down at me. “How unfortunate it is that I have to bring you to the Lord now. I would love to spend some time alone with you this evening. However, at least now I can rest assured of your compliance, and you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, during your time entertaining him.”

With those words, he gently scoops me off the floor, carrying me in his arms bridal style, taking care not to touch my wounded tail or my throbbing feet. His mouth nuzzles my ears, his nose smells my hair and is enjoying my scent, as he walks.

My consciousness has faded slightly—a result of the severe pain from the beating, my hunger, the lateness of the hour, and the extreme stress of the day. I try to keep my eyes open, but they end up closed by the time I hear Razel rapping on a door. I can’t even open them when he is granted admittance.

For sure, my day can’t get any worse from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konoe is at least able to walk when he is taken to Leaks' chambers, but Razel feels the need to beat him some more for insubordination and collusion with Rai before he arrives. He beats Konoe's tail and the soles of his feet with his cane, and Konoe is a sobbing wreck by the time he is dropped of at Leaks' room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mild intimidation, threats of punishment, non-consensual touching and kissing.

I’d nearly lost consciousness on my way to Lord’s chambers, however, upon entering the lavish chamber, I wake. A servant ushers Razel inside, and he places me in the center of a large bed—a _bed,_ which causes some momentary concern—and then he lifts my worried face up to his once again.

“Your role is to _entertain_ the Lord this evening. He will have _no qualms_ about punishing you if you are rebellious or if you fail to please him. Additionally, if I hear that you show even the _slightest_ bit of non-compliance to the Lord, you will suffer _severe_ consequences when I next see you. I will make things extremely unpleasant for you. I may even choose to make it a _public_ performance. Do you understand?”

I nod, terrified, the soles of my feet still suffering—my toes throbbing in time to the beat of my heart—and my tail still in agony, awful pain shivering up and down my spine from the thrashing he just gave me.

“I require a verbal acknowledgment, little one,” Razel insists, his claws digging into my jaw.

“Mmm—ah—yes, sir,” I reply nervously. “I understand. I—I will try not to displease him.” I look down, refusing to meet his eye. _Never_ have I been more afraid than I have been today. I was afraid of Razel earlier, but he _really_ horrifies me now.

“Wait patiently, and do not speak unless you are spoken to. Rest for a while if you like.”

He turns on his heel and departs. The servant closes the curtains on the bed. The bed is raised off the ground, and it has heavy curtains on all four sides. It’s pushed up against the wall at the headboard, but the other sides are exposed to the room. With the curtain closed—black, velvet curtains—very little light comes in, and it becomes very dark inside. I can’t see anything, and it gets very quiet. I have to strain my ears to hear what’s going on in the room.

I barely hear Razel’s footsteps departing. I also hear the servant’s footsteps, walking around in the room. He must be doing something to prepare for his master’s arrival.

I am nervous but exhausted—and the complete darkness overwhelms me like a heavy blanket. The bed is soft and comfortable, and I sink into the covers. I can’t help but close my eyes for just a little while.

I hardly notice when the door opens, and a new set of footsteps enters. It’s very faint. I hear a short verbal exchange, and then one of the footsteps departs. I hear some strange clinking sounds, and suddenly, the curtain opens up just a little on one of the sides.

“Ah, what a pure soul you must have, to be able to rest so soundly after a day like you’ve had.”

It’s the Lord’s voice.

Without thinking, I sit up straight, not remembering to bow in respect to him. I’m shocked out of my half-slumber, startled and confused, sitting up bolt upright, eyes wide and blinking slowly. Low light comes into the covered bed, but he is lit from behind, so I see only a silhouette. He has a medium build, a little taller than I am, and some years older, though his hair is ash blond, similar in color to my own. He seems to be wearing a braided scarf around his neck.

“Come, get up, kitten. I require your assistance. You can help me while we talk. I’m sure you’re curious about why you’re here, aren’t you? Don’t you want to know your connection to this palace?”

My ears perk up, and I rise up out of bed, and that’s when I realize I haven’t shown my respect, and I’ve been staring at him openly. So, I suddenly bow my head, trying to bend my body in half to try to belatedly show some respect.

“Um, I—I apologize, sir, Lord…” I stammer nervously.

“Come, come, kitten,” the Lord says, “I told you I have a task for you. So help me now. Bowing can come later. Get up and help me.”

I climb to the side of the bed, trying to stand up, _completely_ forgetting about my feet. Instantly, I fall down—crumpling to the ground with a yelp—the instant my wounded feet come in contact with the floor's surface. Tears sting my eyes and stream down my face when the pain of my tender feet shoot up into my legs.

“What’s this.” It isn’t a question. The Lord looks confused. “Ah, I see. This was Razel's doing. He seems quite interested in you, and I _am_ sorry about that. There’s nothing to be done. He got your feet this time, did he? That will take time to heal. How about you help me while sitting down on the bed? Wait while I pull up a chair.”

I’m a little surprised by his gentle tone. He pulls me back onto to the bed, taking a quick look at my feet, and hissing when he sees them.

“Wow, you really must have defied him this time, poor kitty,” the Lord murmurs. Who _is_ this cat? And why does he seem so familiar? He pulls up a stool and has me sit behind him on the bed.

“My hair. I’d like you to comb it out and groom it for me. It’s quite a chore. Make it enjoyable,” he states. He seems to have a strange confidence in my abilities.

I take a look at his hair—it’s the same color as mine, if not a little darker, and he wears it in a braid. But what I thought was a scarf is actually a very, very _long_ braid, which is coiled around his neck many times. I’ve never groomed another cat before, much less a Lord's hair, and I’m nervous.

“Please,” he says in invitation, holding his hands out. “I’ve set a comb and brush out for you to use, but to undo the braid, your claws will work best.”

Ever so carefully, I lift the braid from around his neck, unwinding it. It reaches to the floor and several feet beyond as well. Starting at the end of the braid, I unfasten it and begin undoing the braid, coming it out carefully with my claws, using the comb as needed. I also groom his hair—using my saliva as needed as well. I am purposefully being very gentle, trying not to pull a single hair.

“Your hands,” the Lord comments, “The way you move your hands—indeed, they remind me of your father. You never met him, did you? He died before you were born if I recall.”

I’m utterly surprised by his comment, and I stop my work for a moment.

“Um, that's correct, I never met him. You knew my father?”

“I did, very well. Shui served here, you see, before you were born, and just until your birth. His death—it was a pity. I—” There is a short pause. “I miss his services very much.”

What? My dad served at this castle?

“My father served here?”

“He did, indeed.” The Lord has a wistful tone in his voice—something like nostalgia.

“What did he do here?” I can’t help my curiosity.

“Your father? Shui was my muse.”

I can’t think of anything to say to this. A muse? Does he perhaps mean a musician?

“He was a-a m-muse? Like a musician? I remember mother saying he liked to sing.”

“Oh, yes, he could sing, he could play the most _enchanting_ music you ever heard. He could even enchant demons with his songs if you can believe it. But for _me_ , he was my _muse_.”

I still don’t understand. I keep quiet, hoping the Lord will continue. I keep my hands working.

“To this day, I miss him with my entire being.” After a moment, I prompt him.

“I am afraid I don’t understand what it is a muse _does_ , exactly, sir.” I make sure to continue my work, keeping my hands gentle.

“It’s strange, Konoe, how much your hands feel like his, and how your soft voice reminds me of his. Have you sung before?”

“Oh—no. I don’t sing or play an instrument.”

“Ah, I see,” The Lord replies. “That talent will awaken in you later as well like it did with Shui. He told me his talent awoke after he was in his teens.”

“It awoke?”

“Shui‘s talent was truly a gift, a magical talent. It served me well and for many years. His death was a waste and a pity. However—on the plus side, we have you now. We’ve waited a long time, and while it took us some time to locate you, we can train you for this position freshly. You may serve in your father’s place.”

“In my father’s place?”

“Yes, Konoe. The reason I’ve brought you here is to be my muse. I will see to your training. You are to be the muse for the Lord of Ransen.” A shiver goes through my spine when I hear these words. It doesn’t sound like a good position to me.

“Um, I see. Even if I don’t sing or play an instrument?”

“Oh, I’m sure your talents will become clear soon enough. I can tell from the timbre of your voice. I could hear you in the hallway a little while ago when Razel was punishing you for some infraction or other. Also when you first arrived, I could hear you in the courtyard as well. The qualities of the muse are impossible to hide.”

My ears turn red at his comments—he heard me?

“In fact, I witnessed both entire incidents, too. You performed quite well. And you do have a lot of anger that I didn’t foresee. Perhaps that will be the catalyst for your first song. I can’t wait to hear it.”

I’m very confused.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. What exactly does a muse do? What would be my purpose?”

“The purpose of a muse?” 

“Yes, sir. I don’t understand.”

“Ah, I see. Your mother probably kept it from you, for fear of filling you with unnecessary anxiety. It was wise of her. The muse of castle Ransen has several tasks. First and foremost, he fills those around him with _inspiration_. Second, he soothes the _bodies_ and _souls_ of those of the palace. Third, he provides _comfort_ to the people of the castle. Finally, he _protects_ the people of the castle if we ever fall under attack. As you might have guessed, he uses his _song_ to do these things.”

Hearing these words from the Lord’s mouth is such a strange experience. What he is describing has nothing to do with me. I have no such skill. Does he think he can train me to do this? With my voice?

“My _song_ will be able to inspire those around me?”

“I have no doubt that it will. In fact, I know your voice is already doing its job, and you haven’t even _found_ your song yet. Who knows, Konoe, you may be the first muse who doesn’t have to sing to fulfill his purpose!” The Lord speaks confidently, almost excitedly. 

“What do you mean?” I can’t help being curious, and I still don’t understand.

“Well, if your song doesn’t come, we can simply have Razel whip you. The sound of your voice _soothes my soul_ to an incredible degree.” 

What? Did I hear that right? My cries—my pained cries—soothes this Lord's soul? What is _wrong_ with him? What _is_ this place? A chill runs down my spine, fear shudders through me, and the speed of my breath picks up, along with my heart rate.

“You”—I’m shocked, so shocked my hands stop working on his braid for a moment. In a very quiet voice, I confirm what I think he is saying, “Are you saying you feel soothed by the sound of my cries?”

“That is it exactly, my young kitten. For the sake of your small body, however, I hope your song comes soon. But _either_ way is fine with me. Perhaps we can continue both, even after your song arrives. I don’t mind _watching_ Razel punish you, either. Watching you struggle, and finally give in, is quite delightful. You have _such_ spirit. I saw similar spirit long ago, too.” The sound of his voice is full of delight and amusement. It fills me with fear and disgust.

I realize it’s getting hard for me to breathe in here. I force my hands to continue working on combing out his braid.

“You’re breathing a little harder, young one. Are you displeased with this knowledge? I thought you’d be relieved to hear that there’s a meaning behind the torture. It serves a greater purpose!” A purpose? Am I to be whipped for his pleasure? Another shiver goes through my body. I can't do this.

“Did”—I swallow my fear down, “Was—was my father punished like this, too?” I wonder if he’s the one who had the “similar spirit.”

“Oh, _never_ like Razel punishes you,” comes the reply. “Razel—he sees something special in you and has a particular attraction to you, I’m afraid. Shui had already found his song by the time he arrived at the palace. I did find it necessary punish him _privately_ from time to time, however, for stepping out of line. He would meddle in things that didn’t concern him. He interfered with several new recruits we had, as I recall.”

The silver cat comes to mind—how he said he’d been helped once when he was in a situation similar to mine when I was in my cell.

 _That_ thought—the thought of the beautiful silver cat being in a situation like mine—stripped bare, dressed in humiliating clothing, being touched without consent, being dragged from one room to another in this castle, whipped to the point of exhaustion and broken—it just _doesn’t_ fit with how I see him. That couldn’t have happened to him! Not ever!

When _was_ this? And did my father _really_ interfere? Did he stop it? If his song was powerful enough to soothe the hearts of devils, perhaps he really did step in, and he must indeed have had a gift.

But what was he _doing_ here? And what about Mother? Didn’t he love her? What was her role in all this? My mind is burning with curiosity. I am torn between Razel’s command to keep my mouth shut and these questions tormenting my mind, especially when I think of the silver cat being in such a vulnerable position. I need to know _more_ , but I don’t want to involve Rai in any way. I do, however, have a reason to be asking about my father.

I’m only about three-quarters of the way through grooming the Lord’s braid, yet I stop my hands. Instead, I hop down from the bed, drop onto the floor, and throw myself at his feet. 

“Please, my Lord,” I beg. “I was told not to open my mouth in front of you. I was told not to ask any unnecessary questions. But please,” I lift my eyes up to his face, I realize, for the first time. However, my breath is stopped, and I lose my ability to speak. I can't finish my request. The Lord is smiling down at me, wickedly.

His _face_ —from the honey color of his eyes to the shape of his mouth, the slant of his nose to the shape of his chin—it looks like _mine_. Why? I can’t keep a shocked sound from escaping my throat. What is this? 

Why does he look like _me_? An older version of me, but still, it’s _unmistakable_. The resemblance is definitely there.

“Wh-what—who _are_ you?” From my place at his feet, I can’t help staring up at him. It’s rude, it’s impolite, and if Razel were here, I’m sure he’d beat the shit out of me. But I can’t help my gaping. Who _is_ this Lord?

“Perhaps the better question is, Konoe, _who are you?_ Wouldn’t you agree? I’m the _elder_ one of us, after all.” The Lord sounds amused—pleased—almost laughing with delight. “Tonight is going to be a wonderful night, isn’t it? I’ve waited for such a long time for our reunion.” 

“What is going on? What—what _is_ this?” I’m shaking, my hands are trembling, but I can’t look away from his face.

“Perhaps I should tell you a little story. Would you _enjoy_ that, kitten? I have found, in my many years—I am _much_ older than I look, you see—I have found that _many_ young kittens, such as yourself, enjoy a good story. A good story often answers the questions you have without much trouble. It keeps their naughtiness at bay.” He gently—tenderly—takes my chin in his hand, brushes my hair away from my face, leans down, and kisses my mouth, much to my surprise.

I’m so taken aback by his action that I simply freeze in place, but I manage to keep my jaw relaxed, and his tongue enters my mouth. It’s smaller than Razel’s, but it’s oddly—freakishly—similar to my own. A shiver runs through my body—a real chill. Who _is_ this person?

“I am the current Lord of Ransen, but my name is Master Leaks. I am the renowned magician who conquered Sisa years ago, and I have been its benevolent ruler since then. However, I have become tired in my old age, and I have been looking to train my successor. I have already recruited one—the earl—and his training was interrupted by your father. However, with _your_ arrival, I will finally be able to leave my kingdom in his hands and depart from this place in peace.”

“I—I don’t understand.” I’m terribly confused. The earl? Does he mean Rai? What does he have to do with anything?

“Just keep quiet for a while, and let me tell you my story. While I talk, why don’t you finish grooming my braid, hmm? It felt so nice to have your hands in my hair. You are doing such a nice job. Come, get back up on the bed. Perhaps I'll reward you later.”

He lifts my body back up to the bed and begins his tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konoe is brought into Leaks' chamber--after losing consciousness after being beaten so severely by Razel--and is laid out on a bed, which is draped closed with velvet drapes. Konoe sleeps a little, or manages to rest, until Leaks returns.
> 
> Leaks asks Konoe to help him with his hair--which is a very long braid--long enough so it wraps around his neck--and he'd like Konoe to comb it out for him. Then he mentions that Konoe moves like his father did--which surprises the shit out of Konoe. Shui was Leaks muse.
> 
> Leaks lets it be known that Konoe is here because it's believed he will inherit his father's gift of song and will be able to support the Earl (Rai) with that song (Sanga/Touga). Konoe is sure they have the wrong cat because he can't sing or play anything. Until he does, he will serve as Leaks' muse, to comfort his heart. Leaks says he loves the sound of Konoe's cries, and that will soothe him just as well as a song.
> 
> This frightens Konoe quite a bit--and he starts to plead for his life and well-being again--when he looks at Leaks' face for the first time. It's a LOT like his own. To his question, "What are you?" Leaks replies, "The better question might be what are YOU, as I have been around longer." He ends up kissing Konoe--which feel really gross--and then begins his tale.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: While this chapter starts with backstory, there is a severe whipping at the end.

Master Leaks begins his story. 

* * *

 

I met Shui over twenty years ago. I was wandering in the forests, enjoying some private time away from the palace, away from the guards. Even back then, it was frowned upon for me to leave the castle unaccompanied. At this time, I had no heir—no one to take my place if something were to happen to me—and at the time, I was searching for someone who might be able to take my place.

I was world-weary and tired. I’d been defending the realm for many decades—as I said, I’m much older than I appear. Magic can counteract the effects of age. I never share my actual age—suffice it to say that I’ve been around for centuries like the rumors say. However, magic takes a toll on one’s spirit.

As I was meandering in the woods, surrounded by nature, trying to restore my spirit, my ears were treated to the most _delightful_ music. It was the most uplifting song I'd ever heard. The song had no actual words, yet it expressed the player’s delight in his peaceful surroundings, giving thanks to the earth, the sky, the abundance of the forest—exactly those things for which I myself was thankful.

When I searched around, my eyes lit upon a figure dressed in many layers of clothes—a most eccentric outfit, colors and texture mismatched, and yet, it combined for the most dramatic effect. He was wearing a hood, which could not cover his hair. His hair was long and a bright chestnut—almost down to his waist, disobedient strands escaping the hood as though to defy their owner’s will.

The musician played a pear-shaped lute, similar to the Biwa, which was the source of that gorgeous melody.

If I had to say what first made me fall in love with Shui—and it _was_ love—it was this first experience of him—the sight, the sound, the smell of him. He was one with the forest, one with nature. The sound of his music highlighted his appearance and his strong scent, which was sweet, like that of honey—very similar to yours, in fact, which you’ve inherited from your father.

Upon seeing me, he didn’t startle or grovel, like most of my subjects would, had they recognized me. He continued his song and simply smiled. When he turned his face in my direction, that smile was the most beautiful thing in the universe—stronger than any of power I have ever wielded. It lit up his face, lit up his beautiful green eyes like precious stones, and went straight to my heart.

My breath was taken away—as though I’d been struck, kicked in the gut—although it was my chest that ached. What _was_ this feeling? In all the years I’ve lived, never had I felt such a feeling. It was as if this cat was a living embodiment of the forest itself, and he recognized me as one who worshiped that forest, inviting me to worship _him_.

I am not one to worship anyone, nor I am a cat to bow before others. I am _Leaks_ , the master magician, Lord of Ransen, ruler of Sisa, supreme to even the devils serving at my palace. However, I was entranced—enchanted by the beauty of his song, by this cat's unique physical beauty and captivating scent—and I watched and listened in silence from a short distance away.

Once he finished his tune, he smiled warmly and put down his instrument. He spoke to me gently with a voice as tender as the music he played, “What brings you, such a beautiful cat, to this beautiful place on this beautiful day?”

Those were Shui’s first words to me. I will never forget them. They were engraved on my heart.

At first, I found myself unable to speak. As the Lord of this forest—as well as the Lord of Ransen—this was a new experience. My mouth opened, and no words came. Was I indeed enchanted? What sort of song was this?

After a few moments and a terribly awkward silence, I was able to pull myself together.

“I was taking a stroll in the woods, trying to calm my nerves. My work is stressful, and I find the forest a soothing place. When I heard your song, I was captivated. I feel strangely soothed.”

“I’m delighted to have been of help,” the strange cat answered. “I’m Shui. I call myself the Poet.”

“My name is Leaks,” I replied, watching his face for a sign of recognition on his face. I saw none.

Shui made an exaggerated bow—the type performers use—and said with contentment, “If my meager tune was able to soothe your soul, I feel I have done my duty. Thank you for listening.”

“Do you play that instrument for a living?” I asked curiously.

“Well, I try to, but there isn’t much demand,” Shui responds, rubbing the nape of his neck, a wry smile on his face. “These days, skills such as fighting, farming, or manufacturing items to sell are much more practical.”

“I see,” I answered, an idea forming in my mind. “However, in a palace, your skills would definitely be useful.”

“Oh, you mean in Castle Ransen? I’ve thought about it, but you need to know someone in order to get an introduction, and I know no one.”

“I can help you,” I suggested. “In fact, I can assure you a place of employment with the Lord himself.”

Both of the Poet's eyebrows raised in surprise and laughter suddenly spilled from his lips. It was the most delightful sound I’d heard—like his song, the peals of his laughter soothed my very soul.

“I’m sorry,” Shui giggled, “Only—the thought of _me_ working at the  _palace_ —for the Lord of Ransen—it’s just too much! It doesn’t fit the image I have of myself.”

“Why ever not?” I asked, now genuinely curious. “You play so well—I’ve never heard anyone play like you do. Your song spoke without words—and it spoke the words I had on my heart.”

Shui gazed into my eyes as if trying to gauge the seriousness of my comment.

“I’m only being honest.”

“That was an amazing compliment,” Shui says. “Thank you so much.” He stepped little closer to me. This cat was close to my size. I’m average in stature, and he was about my height, a tiny bit slimmer, due to a meager diet, I’d guess. He touched my face gently. “You are very kind, Leaks with the lovely black ears.”

No one had ever called me kind before, nor had I ever been called lovely. I was known as the ruthless, heartless magician Leaks. What were these feelings thrumming in my heart, my soul, making my ears twitch?

“Is kindness why you would help me find employment?”

“No, it’s purely from selfish reasons,” I replied honestly. “I love to hear you play, and if you lived in the palace, I’d be able to hear you play any time I wished.” 

“Oh? Do you live in the palace?” Shui asked inquisitively.

“I do,” I responded. “That is how I’d be able to help you obtain a position.” I hesitated slightly, fear coming over me that he might not like me so much if he knew who I really was. Would he still think me kind? “Come to the palace tonight, for dinner, and audition before the court. The Lord will grant you an audience if you tell them Master Leaks is expecting you when you arrive at the gates.”

His hand, which had brushed my cheek, ran along my throat slightly as well. 

“I look forward to sharing a meal with you. Thank you very much.” He gave me a gentle smile, then turned to walk away.

I watched his back as he departed, wondering what the evening would bring. I found myself rushing home, and taking extra care in my evening dinner preparations—spending additional time in front of the mirror, brushing out my hair and restyling my braid—so tedious—but I felt like I wanted to look special just for this musician. I wanted him to _want_ to remain at the palace with me.

As the palace Lord, of course, I could _force_ his obedience. I knew I could insist on his staying there, performing for me whenever I requested. But I found myself desiring him to stay of his own will.

As soon as the evening dinner bell chimed, I rushed to the dining hall, having to slow my steps and my anxiety. However, I was disappointed when the musician wasn’t among the guests. When I scanned the room from my usual place of honor, I didn’t see his handsome face, his disheveled clothes, nor that shining hair. I held a place for him by my side. Was I kidding myself, thinking he would choose to spend time with me?

After the third course had been served, however, a commotion at the door made me look up from my rather depressing meal.

There he stood—as disheveled as he was in the forest—carrying his instrument and a small sack on his shoulders. He looked so very young, there in the low light of the lamps—much younger than he had looked in the forest, where he looked like he was at home. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty years of age. 

My heart leaped in my chest when I laid eyes on him. I could clearly hear his voice across the room, and I stood up at my seat when I saw he wasn’t allowed entrance. Several others at my table instantly stood when I pushed my chair away from the table.

I nodded to them briefly in acknowledgment, encouraging them to sit down and eat. But I strode boldly to the entrance, where Shui was causing a scene. 

“Please, I’m his guest—he told me to come and audition for him this evening, Master Leaks told me himself that I’d be allowed in to audition for the Lord of the Castle if I used his name,” his voice insisted. 

“What’s the problem? Why are you not permitting tonight’s entertainment entrance?” My voice sounded loud and stern over the commotion, making the guards and the entry cower in fear. 

Shui looked up in surprise, and he greeted me with a brilliant smile. “Ah, hello! Pardon my tardiness, but I got lost on my way here. I’m not so good with directions, it seems. After dark, I really have a hard time.”

The guards bowed low. I heard them apologizing profusely. I ignored them, and Shui watched them with a strange look on his face.

“Come,” I grabbed the musician’s arm, pulled him to my table, and had him sit next to me, at my right side in a seat I’d been holding for him all evening. I offered brief introductions around the table. As I recall, Shui handled meeting the devils rather well, practically ignoring the fact that he was meeting _devils_ , possibly believing they were cats in devil costumes. 

I piled food on his plate, which he devoured. “Not to be rude, but when will I give the audition?” He tried to wait till between bites to ask the question, but because I kept offering him more food, he didn’t have much of a chance.

“Oh, just eat first, while the food is still hot,” I insisted.

I noticed his green eyes were darting around the room, probably looking for the castle’s lord. I wondered if he still hadn’t realized it was me—and I didn’t bother to point it out. The longer I could keep him unaware of me, the better, I thought.

“If you could get permanent employment here, with decent pay and a roof over your head, would you stay? Food like this every night? Good company? A comfortable room?” I asked.

“Oh, yes!” Shui answered excitedly. “I’ve been looking for a position for a long time—but what are the chances?”

“Very good, I think,” I murmured, taking a sip of wine, pouring him a glass.

The devils at the table were eyeing me curiously. They hadn’t seen me act like this before. I noticed them watching the movements of my body, as well as listening to the softening of my speech around Shui. I got a surprising number of suspicious glances, especially from Verg, and I cast a warning glance in his direction, hoping he would manage to keep his big mouth shut.

“Do you play an instrument?” Razel asked Shui.

“I do,” Shui answered, holding up the Biwa. “I’m here to audition for a place at the castle.”

“Ah, I see,” Froud added. “Perhaps the Lord is looking for a muse.”

“A muse?” Verg muttered under his breath, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Is that what we’re calling it these days? Man, the times change quickly. I can hardly keep up.”

Once Shui finished his meal, I suggested he play. “Do you need to prepare?” 

“Nope—I already know what I will play,” Shui looked at me carefully. “By chance”—and he didn’t finish his question, only looked at me quietly.

“What?”

“Master Leaks, you’re the Lord here, aren’t you?”

“Um, yes.” I’m sure I had a guilty look on my face.

“I see.” Shui looked down at his instrument for a moment. “So I will be playing for you?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“The tension is killing me,” Verg mumbled, shifting in his seat slightly, pointedly looking in my direction.

Shui’s claws plucked the strings of the instrument, and a beautiful melody issued forth. This time, instead of a song about the forest, the tune felt different. It felt softer, kinder, and more personal. It was a sweet song—loving, almost—filled with tenderness and yearning. And it touched my heart and soothed my soul.

His music silenced all sound in the noisy dining room—the guests stopped their loud conversations to perk up their ears. I remember that even the devils’ mouths dropped open at the music—especially Verg’s—and I watched as their pupils dilated fully in response to his music.

It was simply enchanting. _He_ was enchanting.

“You’re hired.”

It’s all I could say when the song was finished. “Room and board are included, and I will pay a modest salary as well.”

“Where will I be staying?”

“I will show you to your room,” I stood up, rather forcefully taking his hand. I remember I felt very nervous. Even though I’d done this many times before, this time was different. I was afraid—afraid of being rejected—I did not _want_ to be rejected. Needless to say, my advances were welcomed. 

Since this story is about your father, I’ll skip over this part for your sake. For the duration of his stay at the castle, Shui lodged with me, in this room. We had an intimate relationship that lasted nearly four years.

* * *

 

[Back to Konoe.]

At this point in Master Leaks’ story, I can’t help feeling a little strange.

I just found out that my father had a love affair with the man whose long braid I just finished combing out. It comes as quite a surprise.

So where do I fit in? Why am _I_ here? What am I _doing_ here? And why did this man kiss _me_ like he did—just before starting his story? I feel incredibly uncomfortable.

His _muse_. My father was Leaks’ muse. He soothed his heart and soul with his music—and from what Leaks just said, probably with his body as well.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, kitten. I’m not finished with my tale just yet,” Leaks continues his story. 

* * *

It wasn’t long till I discovered that Shui’s song not only held healing properties—that uncanny ability to soothe—but also incredible power. If Shui sang while I practiced magic, my powers would multiply—increasing exponentially. His powers worked like those of a Sanga, those special cats that would fight alongside a Touga as a pair, but of which Sisa hadn’t seen in well over a century.

It then occurred to me that I might be able to leave my realm in the hands of a mortal _if_ combined with his powers, or the powers of someone similar. So we started searching for someone capable, someone capable as a Touga.

The line of cats from Setsura is known for its strong will and powerful, intimidating build and, I’d remembered, for their capabilities as Tougas in the past. I sent emissaries to the village, looking for volunteers, and I found several families willing to give up their young to the castle for training. At the tender age of five or six, young new recruits entered the castle. At this point, Shui had been with me for two years.

Under the stringent supervision of Razel and Froud, these recruits were to be trained as knights, loyal to me and to the kingdom, and the best of these would be brought up as my heir. I wanted to see if his fighting ability might be strengthened with the use of Shui’s power, but I didn’t share this intention with my lover.

In fact, after meeting Shui, the desire to depart from this world decreased significantly. I intended to stay around for a bit longer—my relationship with him soothed my soul enough to increase my desire to live, and it soothed my depression. I wanted to live if I could be with Shui.

As you might have guessed, while I most preoccupied with my relationship with Shui, I left most of the recruits' training up to the devils. The rigorous training by Razel and Froud was difficult, and Shui intervened on their behalf on more than one occasion, saying I needed to raise these children with love and kindness, not violence and fear.

We disagreed on this issue heavily, going over it back and forth frequently. It was a major source of disagreement and tension between us—our only source of disagreement, in fact. Shui was usually mild-mannered and agreeable, but he really dug in his heels when it came to these young kittens.

My hard-heartedness was probably what drove him away over the next two years. He considered the training of the new recruits torture and abuse, and he was powerless to stop it. At one point, he even escaped the castle with the most promising recruit, who was about seven or eight years of age at the time, with the help of some of the kitchen staff, disappearing for several months.

He’d intended to start a new family for this young recruit—but he never did realize how powerful a magician I really was. I knew where he was hiding, and I saw he’d enticed the female from the kitchen to help him escape. That female was your mother. She’d fallen for him years earlier, listening to his song, and was one of his many fans from the castle. She fell for him easily, while helping him with his escape plans. It didn’t occur to me till much later than he _also_ was interested in her, having been fed up with my coldness toward the young ones.

When I finally grew sick of Shui’s games, I came back to collect the recruit, in whom we’d invested so much effort, and also Shui, to bring both back to the castle. It was time, I said, for him to give up and come home to me. I didn’t give him a choice, and he actually used his song _against_ me, in order to protect his new family and this recruit.

At the time, I hadn’t realized he was protecting you, his own son, who was in the female’s womb at the time, but in retrospect, considering how vehement he was about being kind—even in how he used that song against me at the end—I should have realized. Even when he fought me, he was kind—attempting to overpower me in a way that was loving. My powers absorbed his magic, along with his life force, till he was left with only a few breaths left. 

In the very end, he urged me on to kindness, and he told me he loved me with his dying breath—that he’d _always_ loved me—but that he couldn’t support the abuse he’d seen and that he was disappointed in me. Of course, I brought the recruit back to the castle anyway, and he ended up my heir. 

Assuming things go as planned with your training, you will probably form a bond with him sooner or later. I believe you’ve already met him. That’s the silver cat, Rai.

* * *

[Back to Konoe's thoughts.]

I’m shocked back into reality when I feel a hand on my face, tilting up my chin to meet his gaze.

So creepy—just like looking into my own eyes. Why do I look so much like him? He left that part out of the story. Why do we look so much alike?

“Wh-why do you have my face?” I blurt it out.

I can’t help asking. He’s leaving out some crucial details, I can tell because he smiles at my question.

“I suppose I did forget to talk about that part,” that voice slithers into my ears, and his thumb continues to brush my cheek. “And isn’t it that _you_ have _my_ face, little one? However, if I told you now, what would we talk about next time? I need to give you something to look forward to, don’t I?”

I really dislike the feeling when he touches me. It feels dirty—almost as if my own _father_ were to touch me inappropriately. It feels all _wrong_. He should _not_ be touching me like this. And that gleam in his eye—it looks incredibly wicked.

“How about you do what you came here to do, then?” His voice is very soft. “I’ll go easy on you this evening since Razel already gave you such a hard time earlier.”

Fear starts to overtake me and it’s too late to swallow it back down.

“No— _please_ —b-but haven’t I p-pleased you?” I’m desperate, the power fading from my body, but tension increasing in my stomach.

“Oh, you’ve pleased me very much,” he purrs. “Your voice pleases me _very_ much, which is why I want you to do what you came here for and without further _delay_.”

With the word “delay,” something like black ribbons flies from the magician’s fingers. Was he holding something, or is that a spell? They seem to be living creatures, like snakes, lashing themselves to my wrists, pulling my arms above my head with a powerful force. I hear and feel my shoulders crack, the silky sashes winding and twisting themselves around my arms, binding them tightly behind my back. 

“The sooner you become used to your role, the better. Who knows? Perhaps this treatment will force your song to emerge a little sooner,” the magician’s voice is nonchalant like this is an everyday occurrence. Maybe he ties people up in his chambers every night.

“W-what are you g-going to do to me?” I stammer. The silk ribbons are still moving slightly behind me—and they feel slippery and utterly disgusting. But the more I struggle, the tighter they become, and I start to lose feeling in my fingers. My claws are drawn, but I can’t retract them because my circulation is cut off.

“You may want to stop your struggle, kitten,” his eyes flash orange in the dim firelight, “since the more you struggle, the tighter the bonds become. I don’t mind so much, watching you, however. It’s... quite a lovely sight. And you’re old enough so I don’t feel at all guilty, unlike what I did to those younger kittens. Your voice—you sound _so_ much like your father. It’s such a nostalgic feeling. I find I’m rather desperate to hear you sing for me.”

The last sentence is spoken breathlessly, as he leans forward, his long hair brushing against my body, whispering directly into my ear—and a tremor runs through me. My bound arms are suddenly grabbed, and my body is turned onto my stomach, bent over the edge of the bed, with my feet touching the floor. The moment my feet reach the floor, however, I cry out loudly. Searing pain from the bottom of my feet shoots up past my ankles into my knees—it’s a result from Razel’s caning.

“Beautiful,” Leaks murmurs behind me. “That sound was _beautiful_. Although, I feel like I should suggest you put more weight on your stomach. Then your poor feet wouldn’t cause you quite so much suffering, kitten.”

I struggle to obey, only without the use of my arms, I must look obscene, wiggling and rubbing myself against the bed. Plus, in this position, my ass sticks out far behind me, and I feel a soft touch against me, and a hand grabs my tail, firmly. 

“You know, I have eyes many places in this palace, including in the wardrobe,” the voice has lowered even further. “I know you haven't yet experienced your first heat—and that you’re terribly inexperienced in the world of pleasure. However, after watching you being stimulated and pleasured like that—even if was just your tail—you were _completely_ at the mercy of the yellow demon—those beautifully licentious sounds coming from this lustful body—I wonder, will we be able to wait till your first heat to consummate our love for you?”

“H-heat?” I stutter incomprehensibly. “W-wait for wh-what?” What is he even talking about? Is he going to take me by force? Although, I didn’t know a lot of things before today. Whatever it is he’s talking about, I’m terrified. This magician scares me. 

“Lift your face.”

I do, and before me, at the head of the bed, hangs a mirror. Was it there before? Is that what he’s been glancing at all this time? Who _the hell_ would want a mirror in their bedroom? Looking up, I can see myself, sprawled indecently at the edge of the bed, my hands bound behind me, the ribbon only adding to the indecency my current nudity—making me look even more obscene than this outfit already does. I lower my ears and my eyes in shame, feeling a red-hot blush in my chest that climbs slowly into my ears. 

Before, I was too afraid to feel shame, but I wasn’t aware of my appearance. This is what I look like? This is horribly shameful.

Smack!

I scream at the burning, stinging impact on my ass, and my eyes fly open, glancing back at my reflection. The magician is holding a black leather whip in his hand, which he just used to strike my exposed ass.

“I told you to lift your face,” he says quietly.

I obey, looking up fearfully, surprised I hadn’t even noticed the whip in his hands earlier. How could I have missed something that important? Where did it come from? I shudder again.

I watch as he picks something up from the side table—a crystal glass—and he takes a small sip, savoring the liquid in his mouth.

“It’s wine, made from grapes, from our local vineyard. Have you ever tried wine, little one?”

I watch in the reflection as he approaches, and he offers me a sip of the dark red substance. I don’t care for the flavor—it burns my nose, and I refuse a second taste, turning away. However, he takes a large swig himself, and instead of swallowing it, he forces his mouth to mine.

My mouth is suddenly filled with the liquid, burning my nose and tongue, drawing tears from my eyes, but he forces it all down my throat, making me swallow.

Kissing him—having his mouth on mine—just feels _wrong_. Another tremor runs through my body—it transverses my skin unpleasantly.

“I want you to _watch_ ,” the magician says softly, as he returns the glass to the table. “Perhaps you will see what I find so enchanting about your body.”

Watch _what_? Oh, no—not this—please—no…

“B-but w-wait,” I implore, “ _please_ , I’m not disobeying you! _Please_! Please, don’t hurt me.”

“It isn’t that I have a desire to hurt you exactly,” His voice falls around my ears when the whip cracks against my skin. I cry out loud at the impact—the stinging pain is intense, burning me where it strikes. “No, little one—lift your face. I want you to watch.”

"No, _please_ —stop!” I obey and lift my face as he commands.

As the whip smacks me a third time, he continues, “I just long to hear that lovely voice of yours. Sometimes I may simply punish you because it is my wish, or because I need to hear your voice to soothe my soul, or because I wish to see you struggle. Fortunately for you, your only job is to submit to my desires. That is all that I require.” 

“ _Please_!”

And again—another crack of the whip as I shriek in pain. I watch my body twitch as the whip lashes against my soft skin. My tail is puffed out fully, beyond recognition, and it looks strangely beautiful, undulating back and forth, trying to avoid the blows from the cruel whip.

“Sing for me.”

Sing? What is he talking about? Does he want me to cry? With the next blow, another scream tears from my throat, tears overflowing from my eyes. He _wants_ to hear me cry, so I make no efforts to suppress my voice, hoping this will appease him. However, if anything, it only seems to provoke his brutality, not curb it. I don’t know what to do to make this whipping stop!

Then, in rapid succession—smack—smack—smack—smack—smack—while I watch, the skin of my thighs reddening under the force of the whip. Red stripes raise in angry lines across my flesh. Yet I cannot move to escape the blows, even when I see them coming.

The pain on my feet gets to be too much, so I can move neither the right nor left. I’m simply stuck in place, frozen, unable to protect or defend myself. The only thing I can do I cry out, and I do so, loudly.

I feel helpless when I watch the black leather striking my skin—I know it will burn and sting before the pain actually registers—and the sound of the whip slapping my thighs makes my ears twitch in terror before the pain sinks into my mind.

As soon as I feel it, my skin flares up, the nerves acting like they’ve been singed by flame, my body jumping slightly off the mattress, my muscles twitching defensively. Still, there’s nowhere for me to go, so I simply submit to the punishment.

Although—I don’t understand. _Why_ am I being punished? For being Shui’s son? For having a captivating voice? For being alive?

By the third blow of that rapid succession, my separate cries have blended to a single wail, and I’m sobbing loudly, frustrated, helpless, in pain, and I don’t know how to stop this whipping. I do know that I won’t be able to stay conscious like this for much longer, and in some ways, losing consciousness might even be practical. I try to chase the growing, fuzzy feelings of unconsciousness, but the sharp pain of the whip wakes me each time I close in on those feelings.

It hurts too much to open my mouth to plead, to beg forgiveness, or even to beg for him to stop. I’m in too much pain to form words. The whip is _easily_ as painful as the cane, though I expect Leaks is using a softer touch because this is my first time with him. He could make this worse—much worse—if he wanted to—and that frightens me more than I can say.

“Keep your eyes open, Konoe. I want you to watch.”

I hadn’t even realized I had closed them. My eyes are so filled with tears that my world is completely blurry. I’m crying constantly, and I’m simply adding louder screams to the existing cries with every new blow. 

The pain between strokes doesn’t diminish—it remains steady—a painful thrumming of nerves. My skin is painfully aroused and expecting its next blow. Semi-intelligible words tumble from my lips. I think I hear myself saying, “Please, please, please,” over and over.

Finally, the blows start to slow. In the mirror, I can see the skin of my ass and thighs is tanned bright pink, striped with angry red lines. He gives me one last hard wallop—and I scream in response—and I catch him shuddering in response to my cries. Looking at the front of his breeches, I can see he is completely aroused.

It creeps me out more than I could have ever imagined.

He _really_ enjoys my pain. I won’t survive this place if my song doesn’t reveal itself soon. Some talent I must have—he’s going to kill me, beat me to death, getting off on the sound of my voice. I have to figure out how to sing, and soon! How am I going to do this? Because I cannot keep coming here for repeated whippings like this, night after night. I won't make it! 

Still looking up at him, but resting my neck, I watch as the magician gently skates his fingers across my red skin. I flinch in response, yelping loudly in complaint.

“You look tender,” he says evenly. “Just lovely. Your skin is beautiful, as easily as gorgeous as the voice I just heard. You may not sense its power, but I certainly do. All magical beings sense it—that’s why the devils aren’t able to leave you alone, and why, I suspect, the earl will approach you soon, if he hasn’t already. He will be undeniably attracted to you. I wonder what he will do. Will he allow his self-control to get out of hand and end up attacking you? I can’t wait to see!”

I watch him lift his fingers in a swift motion, calling back the snake-like ribbons from my wrists. They smooth their way down my body, crawling disgustingly across my ass and thighs, as they return to their master—before disappearing into a puff of smoke. A small spasm travels through my body, and I'm finally able to retract my claws. My palms burn.

“You did very well. I’m much soothed,” Leaks says, smiling broadly, stroking my burning ass once again gently. “I’ll have someone fetch you. I can’t wait to play with you next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaks met Shui over 20 years ago while taking a walk in the forest. He was captivated by Shui's music, and Shui didn't recognize him as the Lord of the castle. Leaks invited him to audition for the court, for a position at the castle as the musician, and Shui jumped at the chance.
> 
> That evening, Shui showed up late, since he also lost his way easily, and realizes soon who Leaks actually is. He doesn't think any more or any less of him, however, and plays beautifully. Leaks is enchanted, much to the devils' surprise. They begin a passionate love affair.
> 
> At this point in the story, Konoe is uncomfortable. What about his mother? How did she fit in? And if Leaks loved his father, why did he kiss him like that? It just feels wrong. But Leaks continues his story.
> 
> Apparently, Shui's song held power--it could soothe and heal, but it also amplified Leaks' ability to perform magic, like the Sanga of old. (Sangas haven't been seen in this world in a long time.) Leaks is relieved since he is old and tired, but now he feels he might start looking for an heir.
> 
> He gathers young recruits from villages, at the age of five or six (this is where Rai comes in--his parents gave him up, apparently, but Bardo followed him to the castle and got himself a position there to keep an eye on him) to start training. But because Leaks was obsessed with Shui, he left the recruits to the devils (literally), who weren't kind to them.
> 
> Shui didn't like that and interfered frequently. Once, he even took the most promising recruit (presumably) Rai from the castle, along with a woman from the kitchen (Konoe's mother) and lived in Karou for several months. Konoe was conceived during this time.
> 
> Leaks knew where Shui was, and eventually came to collect him, but Shui tries to (gently) use his powers against Leaks, and Leaks accidentally ended up killing his lover.
> 
> Konoe is shocked with this information--this is why he never met his father, after all--and this was the man who killed him. But he still hasn't been told why he looks like Leaks.
> 
> When he asks, Leaks says he'll save that story for next time, now do what you came here to do--soothe me. And basically, he restrains Konoe with magic and beats the shit out of him with a whip. Konoe cries loudly--thinking this will soothe him--but is beaten very severely and is terribly frightened. He doesn't know if he will be able to handle much more of this--which is what lies ahead of him if he isn't able to sing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: references to prior beatings and whippings, and references to child abuse and neglect.

I’ve fallen into a restless sleep, curled up facedown on the bed by the time someone comes to retrieve me. The moon of shadow is setting in the sky and peering shyly through the windows of Master Leaks’ room, thin rays of light casting slender shadows on the floor.

I hear a muffled, curt exchange from behind the closed curtains. Mercifully, Leaks closed all the curtains around the bed after our activities to provide me both solitude and privacy after the evening’s entertainment. I spent most of the time drying my tears, sobbing through the pain in my heart and my body, till exhaustion finally took over.

This predicament in which I find myself leaves me confounded. What can I do? I must find my song, and quickly. Part of me thinks Leaks has confused me with someone else. He can’t possibly believe I’m the right cat—I just don’t have this kind of gift. Perhaps my mother fooled around while in the castle and didn’t tell Shui. Maybe I’m not Shui's son after all.

I have to discover a way to sing or play—and do it well—to prevent these whippings in the future. I don’t know how often he expects me to perform, but the sooner my talent makes itself known, the better. I can’t handle another evening like tonight. The thought makes me feel ill.

I don’t play an instrument—I don’t think I’ve ever even _touched_ one. And as far as singing goes, I hum to myself on occasion, but I’m sure that _can’t_ be what he means. There must be a certain power behind the song he’s talking about, and I don’t sense any power in my own.

However, I also don’t sense any power in my screams or cries, either. Although, I completely lost myself in my cries this evening—not trying to hold back, not trying to be an adult, simply trying to survive the suffering inflicted upon me. Maybe it’s a matter of losing myself and focusing on the person for whom I’m performing.

I need _help_. My foggy brain makes the connection and no sooner does it make that realization then the curtain on the side of the bed opens. I’m startled, jumping away from whoever is standing there. Unbidden, fearful tears slip down my cheeks—I know I simply _cannot_ handle anything else violent today.

It’s very dark, and the person is lit from behind, so all I see is a large—and very tall—silhouette. And hair. Lots of soft hair, sweeping around his body, down to his waist. The hair looks gold in the dimly lit room. With an overwhelming sense of relief, I realize this is Rai. _Rai_ has come to collect me. 

Knowing now that he is the heir, that Leaks has summoned me to the castle _for_ him, intentionally to form some kind of bond with him—I don’t know how I feel. I feel shy, for reason, but I cannot seem to stop my tears. But also, the initial attraction I felt in my heart to this cat—that thing that drew me to him—it remains. I can’t put my finger on it. Does Leaks expect us to have the same type of relationship he had with my father? What if Rai isn’t interested in me that way? I’m much younger, his junior by at least seven or eight years. I know nothing of romance or intimacy—I have no experience, as both Razel, Verg, and Master Leaks have pointed out repeatedly today. I feel so naive, so uncouth when I’m merely in his presence.

Despite my fears, however, immense relief fills my body when I recognize him, and I relax a little. However, once my eyes become used to the light, I see that his face is clouded over, and he looks troubled. His voice is still very soft.

“Come, let’s get you out of here.”

He tries to scoop me up from the bed, and I yelp when his hands touch my welted thighs. Immediately he pulls his hands back, as though he’s been singed, and his look darkens even more.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t see your legs. That must be painful. Come, and I will treat it,” he leans over me, stroking my hair, whispering in my ear. “Let’s try this another way. Your feet are still hurting, aren’t they? Walking isn’t possible, is it?” 

I shake my head miserably.

“All right then. I’ll keep my hands off any sore areas, then. You’re just going to have to trust me.” His voice is calm and even, and he brushes the hair out of my face gently, completely ignoring Leaks in the room.

With those words, he lifts me up over his shoulder, hanging my upper body over his back. I’m immediately immersed in silky hair, and it smells wonderful—comforting, clean, just a little floral—and I relax my body despite the awkward position.

I feel a hand on my lower back, resting there gently to keep me steady as he stands up and leaves the room. He doesn’t say another word to Leaks while in my presence.

In fact, he doesn’t speak on his way to his chambers either, which is where we end up. His chambers are at the top of a different tower, equally as large as Leak’s chambers but decorated more sparsely. I notice a variety of weapons hanging on the walls, large shields, several types of armor—from full metal armor to light leather—which is quite different to the opulence of Leaks’ chambers.

There is, of course, a huge bed in the center of the room, which I find rather intimidating, and that’s where he sets me down. Of course, he is a very large cat—much bigger than most other breeds, so of course, his furniture would be bigger. But the bed—it feels like an island.

“Lie down on your stomach.”

A small sound comes out of my mouth—it must sound like I’m afraid—and truthfully, I _am_ afraid. He hasn’t said a single word since leaving Leaks’ chambers, and I wonder if I’ve displeased him. Is he upset with me? It almost sounds like it. Is he going to punish me, too?

“H-have I—have I d-displeased you?” I stammer, after my turning over my stomach compliantly.

“What?” The silver cat sounds surprised and his voice lightens slightly. I feel a soft touch on my shoulder, which sends a surprising shiver down my spine. “Not at all. I’m only irritated by his treatment of you. I’ve been told of your arrival, you see. Since I have been here, at this castle, for the past 15 years, I’ve been told to expect you. I was told many things about you. Of course, I expected there would be a training period—Leaks is quite set in his ways, after all. However, I never expected _this_ level of brutality, and they won’t get what they want from you any faster this way.”

Resting my head on my arms, so I can watch him, he collects what look like medicinal supplies and herbs from a small planter box growing in the window, gathering them on a bench, which he has pulled up next to the bed. There are a mortar and pestle, some glass bottles, as well as several bottles of lotions and oils.

“I was told you are special, that you have a talent like no other cat in the entire land of Sisa. While I was trained and bred for my position, no one can be trained for yours. I thought you would be treated with respect and dignity upon arrival. I am particularly surprisedwith Razel’s treatment of you.” 

He adds herbs to the bowl, grinding them efficiently with a pestle. I watch how quickly his hands work—he’s definitely done this before, and I wonder for whom. I find his hands enchanting—captivating, even—I wish they would touch me. They move so quickly and efficiently. How would it feel to have him remove my clothes, I wonder?

 _Waa_! I rebuke myself for thinking such a crass thought about such a dignified cat. Suppressing a small sound which I realize I’ve made aloud too late. Rai glances up at the noise and gives me a brief, but very warm, smile.

He glows when he smiles. It makes my whole body feel good!

“And then, to see that the Lord himself treated you the same way, I can't believe it. I don’t know _what_ he did to you in there—his chambers are sound-proofed. He did that decades ago, so only _he_ could enjoy the songs from his muse. However, it keeps lots of other sounds out.”

He adds the finely ground powder to an oil, adding what looks like honey to the mixture. It has a faintly minty smell mixed with vanilla and flowers when he lets it steep. 

“Let’s see if we can decrease this swelling a bit and clean these wounds. Relax, as best you can. This may sting a bit.”

He spreads out a warm towel that has been soaking in a small bucket close to the fire, laying it gently on top of my ass. I jump in response—it does indeed sting the surface of my skin, and I can feel each welt from the whip. I don’t make any noise, however. He pulls another towel from the bucket—I hear him squeeze it out first and then apply it to my right thigh, and another to my left. Those also burn terribly, making tears spill from my eyes, but I don’t make a sound. 

“This should clean the wounds and prevent infection. It’s witch hazel. Just bear with it. And at least you don’t have to take off your clothes—Verg was quite thoughtful when he chose your outfit, wasn’t he?”

At his remark, I look over my shoulder, and I’m a little surprised to see the hint of a smirk on the silver cat’s face. I feel a blush rising, and my ears start to heat up. I’m just about ready to yank the towels off myself and reject his help when he grabs my hands, encouraging me to stay on my stomach. 

“I’m sorry. I’m only teasing. I was trying to lighten the mood. I don’t like seeing you in pain, and I wanted to see a less pained expression on your face. I was hoping for a smile, but I’ll settle for that blush. Pink ears are awfully cute.” 

“Stop it,” I reply sulkily, burying my face in the mattress. “I’ve heard enough already about how unusual it is for cats to have pink ears for one day.”

I feel a soft brush against the tips of my ears, and I flick them back reflexively. It’s a gentle touch, though. I shouldn’t reject it, should I? 

“It’s such a lovely color,” he marvels, and there’s a short pause. “While we’re waiting, I need to know, did Leaks tell you about why you’re here? Your purpose here?”  
  
Still speaking into the mattress, I mumble, “Something about finding my song. I don’t know _how_ to sing, and I don’t play an instrument like my father did. How is that even going to work? What if he has me confused with another cat who can actually _do_ this?” 

“I’m _sure_ he has the right cat,” Rai says these words quietly, almost to himself. “I will help you. If I train you, we get that song of yours to appear sooner rather than later.”  
  
I flinch when I hear him say the word “train.”

“T-train me?” I can’t keep the terror out of my voice. Was I mistaken? My body stiffens automatically, and the relaxation I was feeling flies out the window. Shit. I let my guard down too soon. Him, too? Does he want to beat me, too? What the hell? How did I misread him so thoroughly?

“Wait—hey, relax,” Rai sounds distraught at my sudden uneasiness. “Oh—no, not _that_ kind of training. I meant, _sword_ training. I’ll train you to _fight_.”

I’m astonished. “Sword training? Why?”

“Well, from what I understand, Leaks thinks that you and I will someday pair up as Sanga and Touga. Are you familiar with the legends?”

“I’m not,” I confess. I don’t know many legends since the only ones I heard were when I was a very young child, ones my mother told me before she died.

“These were pairs of cats who fought alongside each other as a team. The Touga was the trained fighter, and the Sanga would provide support to the Touga through song.”

Again with the song.

“The stronger their bond, the stronger the Sanga’s song would become, and the more invincible the Touga would be. He could gain extraordinary power from his Sanga.”

Wait—he thinks _I’m_ a Sanga?

“But—I can’t sing. I’ve never played an instrument—never even touched an instrument.”

“That’s all right. From what I’ve read, for a genuine Sanga, the song usually first presents itself under times of great need. Perhaps you and I should forge a bond of friendship first. Why don’t you spend some time with me and see what happens? At the very least, it will keep you away from Leaks and the devils, who, I’ve noticed, can’t seem to keep their hands off you.” 

He glances at my face when he says this part. He gets up from the bench and peels off the towels from my body, very gently.

“When I was young, they treated me poorly—I too am familiar with Razel’s brutality—but I’ve _never_ seen him like this. There is something about you that really attracts him. I know I’ve said this before, but you should be careful.”

Next, I feel his hands applying that mixture he made—ever so gently—to my wounded skin. He doesn’t rub it in, however, and while I flinch at the touch, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it feels cooling and relieving when it touches me. Perhaps the peppermint? It’s terribly sticky, though.

He also applies it to the soles of my feet. Then he asks, “How are your hands? Show them to me. 

I obediently open them, as he approaches the head of the bed. He applies the sticky moisture to my hands. It smells really good—mouth-watering, in fact. I can’t help myself—and I haven’t eaten all day. I take a tiny taste of it when he applies it to my hands, making him chuckle a little.

“Ah—are you hungry? I had food brought in, assuming they wouldn’t have fed you. Don’t eat that; have a real meal. First, though—does anything else hurt?”

“My tail,” I say, rather flustered. I don't really want him touching my tail, but... 

“Ah, I see. Razel got to it after all,” Rai rubs the remaining mixture onto my tail, which leaves the fur matted and sticky. But I don’t mind—it really helps. It’s soothing—and it feels kind of good when he touches it. “We have to leave it on there for a while, and then I’ll help you wash it off. You don’t want to sleep with that sticky stuff on you. Let’s get some food in that belly of yours. You don’t want to get any skinnier.”

Skinny? I’m not skinny. I’m slightly offended.

He offers me freshly baked bread, cheese, fruit—including this large purple fruit that I’ve never had before. They taste sweet first and then fill my mouth with a sour flavor. They are my new favorite.

“It’s a kuim,” Rai says. “They come from the north of Sisa. Shui liked them, too.”

I’m stunned to hear him say this. That’s right—he spent some time with my father, knew him better than I ever did since he died before I was born. He was more of a son to my father than I was, in some respects. Would that make us like brothers, though? Somehow, it doesn’t feel that way in my heart.

I don’t want to think about that. Perhaps he sees me that way. I look back down at my plate.

“Chew your food, little one. I don’t want you to choke,” Rai smiles.

“You knew my father,” I say between bites of bread and cheese. “He stole you from the castle, didn’t he?” I look up at Rai’s face—he’s letting me eat on his bed, and there are crumbs everywhere, even though I’m trying to be neat. There’s a short pause, and Rai has a somewhat wistful look on his face.

“Your father was the second kind person I’d met in my life,” Rai explains. “And he would go _far_ out of his way to make sure you had what you needed. He believed cats needed love and kindness to thrive, not just food and shelter. He was an unusual cat.”

“Did you hear him play?”

 “I did. It was magical. When he offered to take me out of the palace, I didn’t hesitate.I would have followed him anywhere. He offered me a real home, a new family, one filled with love. Those few months we spent together were very special. He taught me what a family should be. When he died, I grieved his loss more than I did the loss of my own parents.” 

“Your parents died?”

“Yes, while I was here at the castle. They sent me here, hoping I’d become the next heir. They were not loving parents. My father was a local guardsman in Setsura, and he made enemies easily, meting out justice as he saw fit. While I was in the castle, a pair of cats that he had wrongly accused had escaped and killed him and my mother in their home. It was during my first year here. I don’t even remember hearing the news, but Bardo says I was relatively unaffected.”

I don’t know what to say about his parents. That is just so sad. I lost my mother around the same age, and I miss her to this day. But the way he talks about it makes me think he doesn’t care at all. However—I can’t imagine being subjected to Razel’s torture when I was only five or six years old, and at my _parents_ ’ behest. I have no idea what sort abuse he was subjected to at their hands.

“Bardo—is he from your village as well?” 

“He came along with me, insisted on it when my parents offered me to Leaks. He thought it was a _terrible_ idea, saying it was cruel, that a child ought to remain a child. But my parents thought it was for the best, intending to make something of me. So he came along, getting work at the palace to keep an eye on me. He couldn’t do much to help me through training, though he meant to be kind. He did what he could, taking care of me in his own way.”

I consider his words, as I eat up my food. I’m starting to feel better—my skin is starting to cool down—I feel much more soothed—and with food in my belly, I’m starting to grow quite tired. I have a strange achy feeling in my chest, however, when I think of a younger cat than me being subjected to the anything like the treatment I’ve been subjected to today. 

“Did Razel beat you when you were so small? When you first arrived?” It's that feeling in my chest makes me ask. 

“The devils had a strict training regimen they required all of us young ones to maintain. I was fairly compliant and able to maintain it reasonably well, so I received less cruel treatment than the other recruits. But yes, for infractions, Razel beat me.”

A stunned sound drops form my lips, and I’m unable to swallow the food in my mouth for a moment. I try to imagine a young Rai—I wonder, was he white and fluffy like he is now, only small? Who would ever beat such a cat for anything?

“When you were just a child?” I confirm.

“Yes, for training purposes. They had their reasons, however misguided.”

Then, a sense of horror comes over me. What about that horrible yellow devil, Verg? Did he touch this cat as well, when he was just a tiny kitten? Even the thought makes the tears to my eyes spill over to my cheeks.

“What is it, little one? I thought you were finished with the tears for tonight.” Rai reaches out to my bangs, brushing them from my forehead.

“What about that devil, Verg? Please tell me he left you alone,” I say the words very quietly, sure I don’t want to know the answer. There’s a pause, in which Rai looks at me with a puzzled expression.

“These tears—are they for my younger self?”

“Yes. The thought of a young kitten being subjected to this kind of treatment, the terror and pain of it, is unimaginable.” 

“I’m touched that you would care for me in that way. You have such compassion for a cat you barely know. To assuage your fears, Verg showed no interest in me till I was closer to your age. He waited, somewhat patiently, for me to mature. Don’t cry, little one.”

He continues to wipe my tears, that perplexed expression on his face.

“I wouldn’t be who I am today if not for those hardships. I don’t resent them. Come now, finish your food—or, have you had enough?”

Now it’s my turn to look puzzled. I’m confused by his lack of emotion. But he seems utterly sincere. Perhaps he doesn’t think he deserved any better? The thought stuns me and makes my heart ache. 

Why? I’ve only just met this cat, but there’s something that draws me to him. Is it because he was kind to me? Is he the only one in this place who has been kind?

No—Asato was kind to me, and Bardo was kind. But Rai—he is different. I feel pulled to him. I’m definitely attracted to him—and not just his beautiful, elegant looks, although those are certainly something. It’s more than that. It’s almost something magical. I feel _called_ to him.

“Here, drink this. It will help you sleep, help your wounds feel a little better. If you move at all in your sleep, you will feel pain. I can help with some of that, but you need sound rest. You will need strength tomorrow.”

He hands me a glass, filled with a dark amber liquid. I take a sip—it’s the same catnip liquor he’d offered me when I was in my cell. It burns my throat when I swallow it. I really don’t care for it, and I try to hand it back to him.

“Just drink it.” He looks at me directly, expectantly.

I can’t defy him, not after his kindness. So I choke the liquid down, obediently, then hand back the glass. I suppress a yawn and snuggle back into the bed, trying to brush some of the crumbs onto the floor while he isn’t looking. I feel another wet and warm touch on my back—the towel—removing some of the sticky mixture Rai applied earlier. He’s very gentle—careful not to pull any my injured skin, and even more gentle with the fur on my tail. He uses a soft patting motion to clean it off. 

“You shouldn't lie on your back. And your wounds should be open to the air, so a blanket is out of the question. It’s getting colder, so let me build up the fire, so it’s warmer in here.” 

He rises from the bench and walks over to the fireplace. I watch—trying to remain calm, remembering that this is _safe_ —it’s a fireplace, meant to maintain the blaze, and the blaze can’t escape from there—but I’m still terrified when the flames are stoked higher and higher. I press my lips together, and I turn my face away from the flames. I also scoot my body away from the fire, moving to the other side of the bed, rather than lying in the middle, even though this side of the bed is closer to the window. 

When Rai returns to the bed, he looks at me and says, “Oy, you shouldn’t be sleeping by the window. You need to sleep closer to the fire to stay warm. You won’t be able to use a blanket over your lower half.”

“I’ll be fine,” I mutter into the sheets. I’m already very tired, but I don’t want to sleep by the fire. I startle when my body is forcibly moved to the other side of the bed. Rai just scoots me over toward the opposite side of the bed without asking.

I yell loudly, gripping onto his arms, and shout, “No!” I’m terribly embarrassed by my actions—but I can’t do anything else terrifying today, and I can’t help my fearful response. The fire is too much. Tears overflow—I’m _so_ ashamed of myself—I _shouldn’t_ be afraid of the fire, and I’m _embarrassed_.

“Please,” I desperately grasp Rai’s arms, which are still in the process of moving my body. “ _Please_ , don’t make me sleep so close to the fire.”

Rai’s face registers surprise when he sees my terrified expression, and he immediately pushes me back to the other side of the bed.

“You’re trembling,” he whispers into my ear, petting my hair and ears gently. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I really didn’t. I was trying to warm you up without causing you further pain. Your skin is cold to the touch. See?”

He touches the skin on my shoulders, and his hand feels hot. I shiver a little, and I must be cold.

“Could it be that you are afraid of fire?”

“I’m sorry,” I sniff miserably into the bed. “I’ve always been this way. I’m so ashamed.”

“I’ve heard of this before—it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It's said our ancestors were cautious with fire, so I’ve heard this trait isn’t entirely uncommon. Don’t worry. The room will warm up soon enough. I have another idea if you’re OK with it. Why don’t you get comfortable?”

Rai closes the windows and puts out the lamps. The room, lit by the roaring fire, has a lovely atmosphere, and it gives off such a romantic feeling it increases the now chronic ache in my chest. It’s painful like a string has been wrapped around my heart and pulled tight. It’s difficult to breathe.

But I obey, and turning to my side, facing the window and away from the fire, I snuggle up and get ready to sleep. I keep to the very edge of the bed, mostly to stay as far from the fire as I can. I curl my legs up in a ball, hug my knees to my chest, and wrap my tail loosely around my body. Like this, I can groom my arms, which I do in a leisurely, sleepy way. 

I hear some rustling sounds, which is probably Rai getting ready for bed. I’m tempted to turn around—he might be changing his clothes—but I try to keep myself occupied so I won’t peek. To my surprise, Rai climbs into the bed behind me, moving some of the blankets around, then moving me on top of the blankets, and pulling my body closer to his. He is very careful not to touch any of my injured skin.

“May I groom you? It might warm you up a little bit.”

I nod my head, sort of surprised he asked. He could have just done it without asking my permission since that is what everyone else here has been doing.

Because he’s behind me, and much larger than me, it’s easy for him to reach my ears. His body is nice and warm. I feel his tongue directly on my ears. It’s warm and damp, and at first, it’s weird and ticklish, having his tongue around my ear—and it makes my stomach flutter strangely. I feel several shivers run through my body, which I know he can feel since he is in such close proximity, but he doesn’t say anything about it, thankfully, but I’m still a little embarrassed. 

Do cats usually shiver so much when they are groomed like this? Do they squirm around like this? Is it supposed to tickle? I can feel my ears heating up and I clench my teeth in embarrassment.

“You know,” Rai whispers into my ear, “This is supposed to help you _relax_ , not get you all anxious and spun up. I’m just trying to make you comfortable, warm you up a little, so you can sleep. Think you can relax, or do you want me to stop? Do I make you _that_ uncomfortable?”

“N-no,” I say, now that I’m _really_ embarrassed. “It’s not that. It’s just no one has ever groomed me before—well, maybe my mom when I was really little. So I’m not sure how it’s supposed to feel. I’m sorry.”

“So you don’t hate it?”

“Not at all!” I say a little too quickly. And my face flushing. I can feel my ears heating up freshly, too.

“Your ears are turning pink again.” I can hear him smiling. 

“Um, I know. Ah—I feel like I maybe was a little too enthusiastic in my response.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Do we _absolutely_ have to talk about this?” I ask desperately.

Rai chuckles lightly. “You have lovely ears. I think your ears are especially pretty when they turn this color. You show your emotion on the outside. You’re such an innocent little thing.”

He continues licking my ears soundly after sharing his thoughts.

Those thoughts are doing nothing to alleviate my embarrassment, however, so the blood simply pools in my ears.

“Just relax. You’re doing fine,” he murmurs softly, and his breath blows into my ear as he whispers. It tickles even more, and I’m not sure if he intends this or not. But it doesn’t add to my current heightened state of anxiety. “Just concentrate on the sensations. Don’t think too much. Close your eyes.” 

I try to obey, and I feel his hand on my arm, stroking me softly with his fingertips. It’s a very intimate gesture—one I would have refused from any other cat, in fact. However, from Rai, at this moment, it feels right. It fits. I inhale deeply through my nose, and blow a deep breath out through my mouth, and repeat this process several times—with each exhale, I try to release a little more of my anxiety.

By the time I’ve finished my last breath, he’s moved from my ears to my hair, which he grooms with his tongue, fingers, and claws. His claws are extremely long—I don’t see them—but I can feel them combing through my rather fine hair thoroughly. It feels good.

“Mmm, you smell nice.

It’s another whisper, almost to himself. I relax a little more, and I feel myself being pulled slightly closer, so I absorb more of his body heat with my own body. Because he is much larger, he makes more heat than I do, and he seems to run at a higher temperature than me, contrary to his cool, collected and silvery appearance. With more of our skin touching, I start to feel comfortable and warm, even without a blanket.

I notice his soft, bushy tail floats up over my hip, entangling itself with my own tail, and then wraps around my waist, covering my thighs. It provides extra warmth.

Suddenly, it occurs to me how _much_ of our skin is _actually_ touching. My back is touching his chest—his _bare_ chest. Did he remove his clothing before climbing into bed with me? Also, I notice my legs are touching bare skin as well, so his legs aren’t covered, either. Is he naked? What exactly is he wearing to bed? 

I start to feel self-conscious and worry, my body stiffening once again—and then I realize it isn’t only stiffening in discomfort. I realize my dick is getting uncomfortably hard. Why? I mean, I like Rai—he is a kind cat—but am I really _attracted_ to him?

My body says undoubtedly yes. 

I get very, very antsy, and it feels like a million butterflies are fluttering in my belly. What is this feeling, and why do I feel this way? 

“What’s wrong? You were so relaxed a moment ago. I was sure you were just about to fall asleep. What is it now? Are you in pain?”

That calm whisper enters my ear quite suddenly, surprising me, startling me.

“N-nothing,” I whisper back, not knowing why I am whispering. I try to ignore the feeling of his skin against mine—the warm feel of it—it’s smooth and soft, firm and muscular. I’ve never felt anything like it. The only thing I know for sure is that I feel like I _belong_ here, despite my momentary discomfort and anxiety. I’m afraid he will discover that I’m an impostor, when he does, he will kick me out without further ado.

In the meantime, perhaps it might be okay if I enjoyed it here, relaxing in his arms like this?

“Sleep, little one.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, concentrating on the slow stroke of his tongue on the nape of my neck and shoulder. That soft touch is what eventually lulls me to sleep—engulfed in his powerful scent, I sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rai comes to collect Konoe after that whipping, and he carries Konoe back to his own chambers. Now, Konoe is really afraid--because he knows he is here for this silver cat. But what if Rai doesn't like him that way?
> 
> Once they get to Rai's chambers--also large, but not as ornate as Leaks'--he treats Konoe's wounds. Konoe finds himself weirdly drawn to Rai but is sure it's just because he's such a pretty, fluffy kitty.
> 
> Rai suggests they build a bond with training--which scares Konoe again--but he means sword training. He also mentions that keeping Konoe busy will keep the devils out of his hair.
> 
> And he makes sure Konoe gets some food, including his first bite of kuim, his new favorite fruit. Apparently, his father liked them as well. Rai tells him that he loved Shui--he was the second person to ever show him kindness (it may not be clear, but Bardo was actually the first), and Rai would have followed him anywhere. The weeks he spent as a family were some of the best of his life, and he misses him terribly.
> 
> Rai's own parents died while he was at the castle, but he didn't really have much emotional reaction to that since they were never kind to him. It turns out the devils beat him, too, Razel in particular, for rule infractions, but he was good at obeying the rules. Konoe is devastated to hear this and immediately thinks of a child in Verg's grip. When he asks, Rai is touched but says Verg left him alone till he was older.
> 
> Rai offers Konoe more catnip liquor to help him sleep and builds a fire in the fireplace to keep him warm--which scares Konoe, as we know, he is afraid of fire. So instead, he lets Konoe sleep by the window, climbing into bed with him to keep him warm. He also grooms him, which Konoe likes quite a lot.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: non-consensual touching, biting, forced blow jobs, demonic contracts, forced submission. Verg plays heavily in this chapter, so keep that in mind.

The next day, someone roughly shakes me awake. The moon of light is high in the sky. Apparently, I’ve slept soundly through the morning, and it’s nearly noon—at least, that’s what it looks like from the shadows on the floor. 

I’m still in Rai’s bed, and I realize my wounds have been treated a second time. He must have treated me while I was sleeping. It makes me blush when I think of him gently putting that lotion all over my body. My hands feel better—I realize this because I can draw my claws—which I do when I’m so rudely shaken awake—but the soles of my feet still ache terribly. I’m sleeping on my stomach, and the person shaking me awake pays no attention to the welts on my ass or my thighs, brushing against them as he sees fit—and they burn terribly, making me cry out loudly.

It’s a terribly unpleasant way to be woken.

“Your master isn’t here, and you’ve slept away our morning training session, little kitty. I’m very disappointed. You’ll have to make it up to me, and I have the _perfect_ idea. We’re headed to my quarters today. Up with you, now,” an irritated, familiar voice says, and I’m hoisted up roughly over his shoulder and hauled out of the room.

I’m not quite awake yet, though I’m certain it’s Verg carrying me.

Verg. Not the devil I’d prefer to encounter this early in the day.

“Wait, just a minute,” I protest, trying to scramble off his shoulder. “I’m sure Rai would like me to wait for him to return. Please, put me down.”

“Ah, but those are not my orders, little kitty,” Verg responds, his hand resting precariously on my ass. “I suggest you stop your struggling, for your own sake. You _do_ remember yesterday, don’t you?”

My face heats up at the memory. Writhing in front of him, in front of Razel, those shocks from his hand exciting my body—I _do not_ want a repeat of that. “You’re not going to do that again, are you? _Please_ —I’ll do _anything_ you ask.”

Composed, he continues walking down the passageways, as we descend another flight of stairs.

“Ah—I see. Are you going to try to tell me you _didn’t_ like it? You need to be more honest with yourself, little kitty. I was  _there_. I _know_ you liked it. I saw how your sensitive body responded to my touch. I’m the devil of pleasure, after all. But actually, I have different plans for today. In any case, you need to get yourself together and  _obey_. Stop this struggling or we will put on a little show right here in the hallway.”

I immediately obey when I feel Verg’s hand at the base of my tail, stroking it seductively. He’s reminding me how easy it would be to send one of those shocks through my body. He makes me so uncomfortable. For a while he weaves through the halls, stroking my tail and my ass occasionally, humming to himself. We go down more stairs, further and further into the castle. My nose perks up when the air changes—it’s damp and humid down here. Does Verg live in the dungeon? I wonder.

I get a sickening feeling in my stomach when he opens the door to his chamber and waltzes in, and unceremoniously throws me to the floor. The door to the chamber latches closed—it locks behind us—and I realize I’m locked in with this devil of pleasure. My heart starts to race unpleasantly.

“I’ve summoned a guest today, _especially_ in your honor, to assist with your training,” Verg says neutrally. I notice he’s dropped something on the ground next to me. It’s a cape—a large black cape with three buckles at the neck—much too large for me. He was carrying it with him from Rai’s room, I think. I pick it up and realize, from its scent, that this is _Rai’s_ cape. 

Spontaneously, I pick up the cape and hug it to my body. Its scent and feel provide me with immediate and immense comfort, as Verg walks out of the room through an adjacent door.

“I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Just be patient. I can’t wait to introduce you.” 

I hold the cape to my face and bury my nose in it. Just smelling it puts my heart at ease. It makes me feel that I will be all right. If Rai helps me afterward, I can handle _anything_ Verg throws at me.

In a few short minutes, I hear a foreign, animalistic sound from the door Verg just departed from, and he waltzes back in. It’s a strange, wet growling, which strangely causes my tail to puff out and raises the hair on the nape of my neck. The longer I hear the sound, the more the growl sounds like a purr, and the more sexual it sounds.

What is that thing? Is it an animal?

I look more closely in the dimly lit room, and Verg is dragging a strange creature by the arm into the room behind him.

“Little kitty, I’m pleased to introduce you to your new friend, Igaryx. He’s an incubus, and he’s here to, let’s say, ‘help you’ with the next phase of your training.”

The creature is close to my size, perhaps slightly taller, and he has large black horns, shaped like a ram’s, curving away from his head. He also has long black hair, nearly to his waist, cascading about his body. He has large pointed ears, sticking out from either side of his head, in the same place as Verg’s, rather than on top like mine. Like Verg’s, his are made of flesh, not covered in fur. He also has a fantastic set of large black wings, like a bat's, which look glossy and smooth, and are currently closed and tucked behind his back. The wings match his slim tail, which is tipped with a strange triangular protrusion. His hands have long, slender fingers—much longer than mine, and are tipped with long black nails, which don’t look retractable like my own claws. If they are, he currently has them fully drawn.

His outfit consists of very little—he isn’t wearing a shirt, leaving his muscular chest bare. I said he was close to my size, but his lean muscles ripple with every movement, and his chest is much more muscular. He’s wearing black breeches, and knee-high shiny black boots, so the skin of his legs is covered. His skin—it’s the most strange color—it looks gray. I’ve never seen a creature with gray skin before. It really accents his deep, blood-red eyes, which are focused on me.

His face is chiseled and handsome, with defined cheekbones, a sharp chin, and again, piercing eyes framed with long black lashes and arched eyebrows. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of me since he’s entered. His mouth is closed, though I can see small sharp fangs peeking over full lips as the growling continues. 

I want to ask about the sound he is making, but it might be rude. How is he going to help me, I wonder? I’m quite overwhelmed with the sight of him and get a strange feeling in my body, the longer I’m sharing the room with him, which Verg seems to pick up on right away. It feels like my stomach has dropped to my feet, and I start to shiver a little.

He enjoys my discomfort and chuckles a little.

“You _are_ a sensitive little thing, aren’t you? You’re picking up on Igaryx‘s effects already, aren’t you? He hasn’t even approached you yet.”

“What do you mean? What effects?” I ask, nervously, though a part of my brain has an idea what he means, and I’m afraid. “How is he going to help me with my training?” 

“Well, incubi can encourage bonding slaves with new masters.”

“Slaves? With m-masters?” I"m shocked at his choice of words. I'm _not_ a slave!

“Of course. You’ve met him. The earl. Rai. The silver cat, with whom you spent the night last night. He’s certainly wasted no time. However, I assume by the state of dress I found you in this morning that he left you _alone_ yesterday. He _would_ , of course,” Verg states, huffing pretentiously. He continues.

“Back to how Igaryx can help you… After talking with Razel, we’ve come to the conclusion that you are not _nearly_ malleable enough for your role at the castle. If your purpose is serving the earl, you must become much more pliable, willing to go out of your way to see to his _every_ need. As it is now, as soon as any of us asks you to do something, your immediate response is to dig in your heels and refuse. I’d like to see that change, making you actually _interested_ in serving him. And to do that, I think you need something to _motivate_ you. Wouldn’t that make sense?”

“Um,” I stammer. I don’t understand what Verg is talking about. I have _not_ been obstinate. Igaryx is approaching me slowly, and he grabs my arm and pulls me up to stand—burning the soles of my feet. I’m shocked by his strength, and I let out a small surprised gasp. He brushes his claws gently along the lines of my jaw and my chin. He is actually significantly taller than I am when I see him up close, so he tilts my face up to meet his searing red gaze, which is terribly intimidating. But that strange feeling is only increasing, and my body is now coated with a fine layer of sweat.

“So you _do_ agree. You have a _rebellious_ spirit in you. Razel wants to beat it out of you. And as much as I love to see your lithe body punished, I’m the devil of _pleasure_ , and that isn’t my style. Plus I know the earl would _never_ agree to Razel’s brutal methods. We could never get him to go along with _any_ sort of violent discipline. However, with the powers of an incubus, we have more options.”

Igaryx drops his eyes from my face, and I feel his eyes on my throat. He wants to _devour_ me. It makes me more than nervous—almost _afraid_. I am his _prey_. I feel his hands on my neck and throat, which scares the shit out of me. I let out a frightened squawk and try to escape his grip.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” I try to back away, my feet barely able to hold my own weight, but the incubus catches my back with his other arm, his sharp look softening slightly, and he tilts his head slightly to the side. It’s a strange expression, almost as if to say he doesn’t want to frighten me.

“You see, little kitty, the incubus is mighty useful when forming _bonds_. He can make it so you won’t ever _want_ to disobey your master. I see you’ve already found the earl’s cape, didn’t you?”

My gaze drops to the floor. My eyes light on the cape I’d dropped earlier. I wish I still had it in my hands for comfort.

“Igaryx, pick it up. That belongs to little kitty's master. Become familiar with its essence.”

The incubus nods, and he obeys Verg, releasing me from his grip. The moment I’m released, I pull away, falling to the floor and crawling several feet away on all fours, far enough to be out of reach, but I remain transfixed by his movements. Igaryx caresses the cape with his fingers, using the same soft, seductive touch he used when touching my face. He touches every part of it, and then he brings it up to his nose to smell it. Shockingly, I also see his tongue slip out from between his full lips—it’s a _forked_ tongue, like that of a snake—and he licks it several times, as though tasting it. He rubs it against his face as well.

 _Weird_. I almost feel _violated_ , watching him do these things, and it isn’t even _my_ cape. It’s my _master’s_ cape, not mine.

Wait just a minute. What am I thinking? My _master’s_ cape? Rai is _not_ my master! _I_ am my _own_ master. Why would that thought even go through my head? I am not a slave! I don’t understand. I shake my head to clear it.

Verg smiles slightly, saying to the incubus, “Good boy. Go ahead and start the ritual. The kitten needs to _obey_ his master at _any_ cost. If he doesn’t heed his master’s desire, he should suffer the _highest_ consequence.”

 _Ritual_? What ritual? I don’t like the sound of this— _not at all_. I flinch away when Igaryx approaches me, but his arms are longer than I expect, and he easily grabs me while I back away.

“No—stop, let me go!” I protest wildly, afraid of what he will do to me. “Don’t touch me!”

My shirt is instantly stripped from my body, exposing my chest, and I start to panic. “What are you doing? _Stop_ —leave me alone!”

Verg’s voice interrupts my struggle. “Little kitty, for the ritual to take its full effect, I’m afraid you need to be nude. It will only be for a few moments. Just relax, and it will probably be quite pleasant for you. _Relax_. These are just the preparations. He is only smelling you—like he did with the cape—gathering your _essence_ , so to speak. Then a short ritual will take place, in which he will bind you to your master. Then, there will be a payment for services rendered.”

Gathering my essence? Binding me? And what _payment_? What the fuck? I can’t relax—and I don’t want to be stripped in front of Verg again. But it’s too late—the shirt is already stripped off my body, ripped to shreds mercilessly, in fact, and now, he’s moving to my lower body. 

Igaryx’s claws scrape my sides, and my back hits the floor. I hear Verg chuckling.

“You _really_ don’t seem very eager, little kitty,” comes his low voice, charged with heat. “Razel and I were correct in our assessment of your rebellious spirit. Just submit. You don’t have a choice.”

My hips are yanked up off the ground when the incubus pulls the waistband of my shorts. The rest of my body helplessly falls back like a rag doll. The brutal movements frighten me, and I find I’m losing the ability to breathe, and I’m getting lightheaded. I watch those long black claws expertly unbutton the closure, while his thumbs gently brush the blond fur below my belly. The combination of violence mixed with the tender stroking against my stomach confuses me. For just a second, I forget to fight back, and I simply submit to the captivating, humiliating touch, while caught in his desperate red gaze. He looks like he really _wants_ to touch me—as though he is _compelled_ to touch me. My shorts are yanked down past my sore thighs. Snapped back to reality by sharp pain, I grunt when the fabric brushes the welts, which Igaryx touches tenderly with his fingertips. 

“Don’t _touch_ me!” I yell, trying to pull the shorts back over my hips, but it’s futile. He’s much more powerful than I am, easily able to overcome my efforts. I continue to squirm, managing to turn my body onto all fours in an attempt to escape. I feel a heavy weight pressing against my back. It occurs to me he just _allowed_ me to move—almost as though he is playing with me, letting me _think_ I have a chance to escape. This is a game to him.

In the blink of an eye, the creature has me pinned to the floor on my stomach. He’s using his wings to hold me down, my entire body shakes with fear and agitation. I hear a fierce growling in my ear, but it too sounds _playful_ , like a purr. Tears brim in my eyes when Igaryx grabs my chin, craning it over my shoulder, meeting his gaze once again. He doesn’t speak, but looks deeply into my eyes, not moving, not speaking, for a few tender moments. The sentiment is rather shocking, but I don’t _want_ to be here—I don’t _want_ him touching me, smelling me, gathering my fucking essence, I don’t _want_ him to perform any ritual on me!

“He _isn’t_ trying to hurt you,” Verg insists. “If you continue to fight him, however, I don’t know _what_ might happen.”

That odd forked tongue shoots out of his mouth, right at the corner of my eyes, and it licks the tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks. The incubus’ face is so close to mine. He is smelling me, tasting me, licking me, brushing his lips and nose against my face—his skin is very smooth—and he keeps me pinned to the ground while he does it. I _hate_ it. It feels like an assault—I am being violated. I try turning my face away, trying to escape his touch, but he won’t release my jaw.

“Stop it! Let me go!” I yell, my frustration boiling over.

When he finally releases my jaw, his tongue moves to my neck, and I tilt my head to get away from the ticklish sensation, but he moves immediately to my throat. I feel his sharp fangs grazing me—and it _scares_ me, sending my stomach lurching violently.

When his sharp teeth threaten my throat, I realize he could _really_ hurt me, even tear out my throat if he wanted, and my struggles become much weaker. He is _forcing_ my submission, despite my protests, despite my desperation.

“ _Please_ ,” I whisper. “Please, stop. _Please_. Please, don’t hurt me. _Please_.”

His nose and mouth continue exploring the nape of my neck, almost leisurely, that tongue lapping against my skin occasionally, while I try to lie still. Next, he moves down my sides—first the right, oh so carefully—and then the left—under my arms, even to the ends of my fingers, popping each finger into his mouth. It’s such a strange sensation—and it feels different from ticklishness—much to my mortification. I’m thankful to be lying on my stomach, where I can hide my blushing face. I curl my legs underneath my body, making myself as small as possible, which also serves to hide what’s happening in my lower half, which finds itself in a state of strange excitement, my body aroused like this.

He returns to my nape and advances slowly down my spine—sniffing, smelling, licking, and tasting. His touch is remarkably thorough. He starts down my neck, my back, the welted skin on my ass—even inserting his nose embarrassingly in between my cheeks, which tickles and sends odd sensations shivering through my body that I try to deny feeling at all.

“No,” I protest weakly, “ _Please_ —stop.” Clenching my thighs together, I bury my face in my hands, unable to look up.

The touch is invasive—no one has _ever_ touched me there, and I never imagined it would feel like this. It’s an assault on the most private part of my body. But instead of horror, I feel tremors, one following the next, wave after wave, shivering across my entire body. I feel _desire_. I'm so ashamed.

“Ah, look how _sensitive_ you are, little kitty. No one has stimulated you there before, have they? You didn’t know you could even experience pleasurable sensations there, huh? Don’t worry—Igaryx has to cover every inch of your body for the ritual to work. I’m sure he will move on soon if you stop enticing him. Be still. Be patient.”

I’m not enticing him! I can’t help what my body is doing—but wait. _Every_ _inch_? Ugh—no. My stomach lurches again when I realize I’m huddled on my belly. Does this mean he’s going to cover my other side in the same way? Is he going to make me turn over?

“ _Please_ , no. _Please_ ,” I beg. Tears drip from my eyes. “I will _obey_ —I will do anything asked of me. No matter what it is—I _promise_ I will do it—I just—I just can’t do this— _please_ , don’t make me do this—ah!”

I try to suppress small pleasured gasps when I feel the incubus licking me with his forked tongue, deep inside my body, and I’m both relieved and strangely disappointed when he finally moves on, pushing up my ass to stretch out my body, down my thighs—covered in angry welts—to the backs of my knees, which are strangely ticklish, and to my calves and the soles of my feet. He spends time on my tail as well—licking, petting, smelling, combing through the fur, caressing, making my fur fluff out. It’s both pleasurable and torturous, making me sigh with strange pleasure.

“Please,” I say even more quietly. “ _Please_. Stop this! Isn’t it enough? _Please_.”

“Bear with it,” Verg says. “There’s no way you’d submit _without_ this ritual. You don’t have it in you. You’re about half-way finished now.” There’s definite amusement—and something darker—in his voice.

Suddenly, the incubus lets up on my pinned body and allows my escape. I immediately bolt, but I’m still naked, scurrying away on all fours—but I have nowhere to run, nowhere to go. Verg is right there, waiting for me.

“Where do you think you’re going to go?” Verg purrs. “In _that_ state? You think you’re going to run through the castle like _this_? What do you think would happen to you if I let you roam through the castle smelling of incubus and aroused like you are? Silly little kitty. You can’t even _walk_. Don’t be ridiculous. Come now.”

I do _not_ obey and stay far from Verg’s reach, however, between the two of them—and Igaryx looks hurt—his face looks truly hurt that I ran from him—Verg finally catches me, by the ankle, and he drags me toward him, lifting me up onto his knee, palming my groin roughly when he pulls me in close to his body. I feel his face in my hair, nosing my ears, which flick down. I try to keep quiet, though, with his hand where it is, it’s rather difficult.

“You’re going to be _very_ sorry you disobeyed with that little stunt, little kitty,” he warns me. “I’ll punish you _severely_ by the end of this session. But let’s let Igaryx finish first.” 

He pushes me to the floor violently in the direction of the incubus. My back hits the floor with a thud, a grunt of pain leaving my lungs along with the wind that is knocked from me. I find Igaryx on top of me immediately, covering my face with his lips and tongue, sniffing and licking, just like he did the back of my neck.

Shivers run down the length of my body when he reaches my neck and throat, and he moves even lower, toying with my nipples for what seems longer than necessary. I become terribly anxious when he reaches my abdomen. He buries his face in my navel, and sparks fly from behind my eyelids—something strange is happening to me that _doesn’t_ have to do with simply being smelled or tasted. Blood that has pooled in my lower half feels like it’s roiling around in luscious waves, and I am pleased with this touch, my breath becoming ragged.

The incubus holds my hips down firmly as he follows the fuzzy trail of fur below my navel, after brushing his nose, lips, and tongue along both sides of my hip bones. I can’t help crying out as his tongue licks my cock. He doesn’t use much force at all—only gentle touches, in fact, as if he’s tasting me—but he sucks just enough to get a little transparent fluid onto his tongue.

When he does this, his half-lidded red eyes gleam, and a seductive smile appears on his expression as he looks up at my face. Is he _enjoying_ this? Another shiver goes through my body as I feel his tongue slipping underneath my cock and licking my balls, as he takes each one into his mouth. Then, again, as he licks the space between my balls and my asshole, another violent shiver shakes my body, and my tail puffs up and quivers.

“Is this the first time _anyone_ has touched your cock, little kitty? And he’s using that forked tongue—that’s got to feel amazing! Look how sensitive you are,” Verg is _watching_ —this entire time, Verg has been _watching_ , and I’m mortified—absolutely _mortified_. My face and ears heat up with shame, and I cover my face with my arms. I _hate_ Verg.

The incubus, however, continues his job, licking, smelling and tasting the front of my thighs, my knees, my lower legs, and even my toes. Surprisingly, immense pleasure shoots through my body, pooling in my waist, when he sucks my toes. My cock strains painfully, and I try to use my tail to cover myself, but it’s waving back and worth so wantonly that it doesn’t make good cover. Strange gasps come out of my mouth that I can’t seem to suppress, and they embarrass me even more. 

“Don’t mind me—go ahead and enjoy those sensations. I didn’t know you’d enjoy having even your _toes_ sucked. I _love_ watching you, how you _fight_ your desire—you fight your _heart_ , but your body betrays you,” Verg murmurs. “I can’t _wait_ till your first heat, little kitty.” 

There’s that phrase again—what’s this about getting _hot_? What is he talking about? I can’t think with my mind blurred with pleasure. I feel the incubus touching my cock again—this time with his hands. I feel a soft touch beneath my ass. Igaryx has pushed Rai’s cape beneath my hips. 

“So—little kitty—looks like the ritual is about to begin,” Verg’s low voice sounds husky and full of desire. I don’t open my eyes. It’s hot in here, I’m flushed with embarrassment, and my cock is dripping. I don’t want to be like this, but apparently, when my body is played with this way, I can’t help it. Again—like yesterday when Verg stimulated my tail, I couldn't help my reaction. Wait—the ritual—wasn’t _that_ the ritual? 

I suddenly feel Igaryx’s mouth against my inner thigh—sucking on the right side of my inner thigh, almost at the crease of my leg—almost where my leg and hip meet. At first, the touch is pleasantly stimulating, increasing my desire, especially since he’s simultaneously stroking my cock. He holds my hips down with the other hand to prevent my escape. At the moment, however, I have no thoughts to escape. I am simply enjoying the touch. Lewd sighs leak from my mouth, which I try to cover with the back of my hand.

Suddenly, however, his shiny black wings open up fully, which gives me a fright, and the sucking sensation turns much harder, much more violent, and his teeth pierce my tender skin. I cry out in pain, squirming and trying to get away. I had no idea how large those wings were when fully expanded—each one is nearly the size of _me_. The wind and pressure they make are enormous, too—they have such force, and help keep me pinned to the ground.

I draw claws, growling and hissing, scratching at his head, his neck, and those wings—anything I can reach—trying to get him away from my groin, trying everything to get his head away from my leg. But he simply grabs my wrists with his hands and pins them against my hips.

His action frustrates me even more, and so I scream loudly. Then the sucking sensation turns into a searing, burning pain. It feels like he is biting me and sucking my blood, but it’s _hot_ —his mouth is burning me! It feels like fire against the tender skin of my thigh. 

Fresh tears burst from my eyes, this time from pain rather than frustration, and I yell at the top of my lungs, trying to close my legs, squeezing his head between my thighs, begging him to stop, pleading for mercy, begging Verg to _make_ him stop—all to no avail. I don’t understand what is happening, why he is doing this. It’s _torture_. 

The burning sensation lasts for a good four to five minutes before it finally lets up—leaving me completely exhausted once he finally moves away. As he pulls his face away, his mouth is red, and he licks blood from his lips and teeth, still making eye contact with me. I feel a trickle of blood down my right thigh. He smiles slightly, sending a cold shiver runs through my body. 

“Well, _before_ that little outburst of yours, I was going to explain the ritual,” Verg says as if nothing significant happened. The inside of my leg is throbbing—in time to the still rapid beat of my heart. “Here’s how the incubus bite works.” Verg clears his voice—and if my head weren’t so foggy, I think I’d recognize pride in his tone.

“You are now the earl’s _slave_. You have to obey each and every one of his desires. Anything he wishes you to do—no matter how slight or subtle—you _must_ obey. If you fail to comply with his demands, your body will suffer consequences. It doesn’t matter if his commands are spoken aloud or not, so you will learn to pay _close_ attention to his facial expressions and his body language and serve him well, or you will suffer like you’ve never known.”

“S-suffer? W-what do you mean?” My body is covered in cold sweat. “What are you talking about? What’s going to happen to me?” What have they done to me?

“You will be filled with a longing, a _yearning_ , that only your master can alleviate. You will suffer from this desire even _after_ you fulfill his wishes, though _immediate_ compliance with his commands  _will_ keep your symptoms at bay. If your master wishes, he can absolve you from suffering— _if_ that’s what he chooses. Otherwise, it’s a great motivator to keep you on your toes, ready to soothe his every whim. However, if he has a desire that you don’t know about, you’d _better_ find out what it is, and quickly, or your symptoms will take over your body. Because only _he_ can meet your physical needs. You _won’t_ be able to sate yourself, nor will any other person be able to satisfy you. Only _the earl_ will be able to satisfy your lust. Your mind will be filled with thoughts of him.”

This—it sounds like an extreme case of what I already have, except that Rai will actually know about it, and it sounds like these bodily symptoms will be more extreme. And terribly shameful and embarrassing. I can’t believe it. I don’t even understand the point of this! Is it to make me compliant? Is it to humiliate me?

“Would you like to see an example of how this works?” Verg asks mischievously.

“Hell no! _How_? He’s not even _here_ now. How will this even work?” I ask.

“Well, he may have a need or a wish for you to meet right _now_ , something you are _not_ fulfilling. Perhaps I’ve asked a colleague to put _just_ such a wish in his mind. What’s the time?” Verg looks at the large clock on his wall then smiles back at me. “It should be soon now. Tell me when you start to feel it. You should be able to soon.”

We wait in silence, anxiety filling my body. The incubus waits with me, gently stroking my tail, which has returned to its regular state. I find Igaryx's actions disconcerting and overly friendly. Glancing down and my leg, there’s a large purple bruise on the inside of my thigh, and I can see fang and teeth marks, as well as a little blood dripping along the inside of my thigh, from where he bit me. When I look a little closer, in the center of the bite, there’s a tiny seal in the center of the burn. It looks like a sigil. What the _hell_ is that? I stretch out my sore skin to get a closer look.

Suddenly, my heart rate increases, for no reason I can detect. My ears twitch in response, and I look around for the source of my anxiety, but I find nothing. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. My heart is thumping loudly in my ears. My mouth fills with saliva, and I try to swallow it down, but more keeps filling my mouth. I feel a strange itchy sensation in the core of my body—like I need to leave this place, go somewhere, or that I need _something_ —but I can’t place my need.

I look up at Verg in confusion.

“Are you feeling it?” A wicked smile is on his face. “It’s about to get _worse_.”

He’s right. The butterflies in my belly start rising to my chest, and my cock suddenly stiffens. I gasp suddenly, lewdly and rudely, much to my dismay and surprise. My nipples get hard and red, and my chest and face flush. My ears get hot, too. My body starts to sweat and my tail puffs out to twice its size. A purr starts in the back of my throat. It’s so strange. What _is_ this? I feel _utterly_ desperate. I try to stand up, wanting to pace the floor, but the soles of my feet are still too inflamed to hold my weight, so I fall back to the floor on my hands and knees.

I’m stuck on the floor, and I realize I’m more turned on now than I’ve _ever_ been in my entire life. Downright and disgustingly _horny_. I want that silver cat more than _anything_ , and I’m ashamed. I want him to touch me, kiss me, stroke me, take me—and I don’t even really know what that means, but it’s what my body and mind are telling me—and my _heart_. My heart is in _agreement_. He’s all I can see in my mind, he absolutely covers my thoughts. I can almost smell the sweet scent of his hair, the soft feel of it, the soft fur of his tail. I _want_ him.

So why do I feel such shame?

Tears spill down my cheeks from humiliation. I don’t want him to see me like this! I can’t stand the idea. I’m so ashamed. That silver cat is the picture of dignity and refinement—elegance and grace. And here I am, naked, lusting and out of my mind with dirty thoughts on the filthy floor of Verg’s dungeon. How am I going to get out myself of this situation?

“No. I can’t _be_ like this,” I say, surprised by the sound of my voice. It’s low, seductive, and purring—it sounds like a different cat is speaking. My ears twitch in surprise to the sound, the breathiness, the purring behind it, and even it serves to increase my own desire. I’ve never heard my voice sound this way. Both Verg and Igaryx look up at me when I speak, and I capture their attention in a way I haven’t before. “Please, make me the way I was. _Please_.”

“Oh, you’ll go back to the way you were soon enough. This bond is only temporary. But in the meantime, I think you’ll learn to serve your master quite well. Don’t you rather enjoy the feeling?” Verg looks at me carefully, watching the expression on my face. “This is _quite_ a good look for you, little kitty. You even _sound_ different.”

“But I don’t even know what he _wants_ from me!” I’m desperate. “How can I serve him if I don’t even know what he wants? I didn’t even get a chance to refuse! I would never have refused his wish if I knew what he wanted! I’m sure of it!”

“It’s because your heart was rebellious from the start,” Verg answers. “When you approach your master on your knees with an open heart, your suffering will lessen. Or perhaps, more likely, in your case—you’re just terribly sensitive, and you will suffer until the bond wears off.”

Igaryx simply observes me and then gives my tail an intense stroke with both hands. It makes me jump because I’m so aroused—the fur on my ears fluffs out as well.

“So cute—such a fluffy little thing,” Verg says, coming closer.

“I _need_ my master,” I say rather desperately.

“You’re feeling it, aren’t you?” Verg asks. “Your heart is pounding in your ears, your body is sweating, your body is desperate. I can smell it on you. Gods, and you don’t even know _what it is_ you want! I love it!” Verg laughs loudly. He’s awfully pleased with himself.

I’m shaking, my hands trembling, my tail quivering. I’m still on the floor at Verg’s feet, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“ _Please_ , I need to find my master. _Please_ , you _made_ me like this. _Help_ me find him. Please.”

“And you’re _already_ calling him your master,” Verg adds. “That’s wonderful. _I_ could make something out of you Razel couldn’t. That’s great. Master Leaks will be pleased.”

“ _Please_ ,” I continue my desperate begging. I don’t think I can wait. My heart is beating out of my chest. I feel it in my throat.

“Say—don’t you remember when you tried to get away earlier? During the preparations for the ritual? I believe I said I’d make you very sorry for your escape?” Verg’s voice has dropped further, and he looks down at me evilly.

A small sob escapes my throat. No—he can’t be serious. Now? Not when I’m suffering like this. What does he want?

Getting my body as low to the ground as I can, I bow my head at Verg’s feet. My tears dampen his boots. “ _Please_ ,” I beg. “That was before I knew my master _needed_ me. That was before I knew this... pain.”

“‘Want.’ The word you are looking for is ‘need’ or ‘want.’ It is not ‘pain,’ fluffy little kitty. Get used to this feeling, because you’re going to be stuck with it for a while. You might as well enjoy it.” Verg interrupts.

“‘Want. Before I knew this want.’ It’s just as you say. _Please_. Let me go to him. _Please_ release me. Have mercy on me.”

I make a show of kissing Verg’s boots.

He laughs. 

“Wow—I love it! Not only are you _his_ slave, but you’re mine, too. What else will you do for _me_ , I wonder?”

“What do you require?” I ask. “Anything. I will do _anything_ if you will bring me to him.”

“Anything? Whoa!” Verg asks, a lewd sound groaning from his lips. “I have a beautiful, naked, fluffy _virgin_ sitting in front of me, offering me _anything_? What else could I possibly need?”

The incubus growls again slightly, and the sound makes me shiver and shudder. The feelings in my body are overwhelming my rationality. Desire blurs my mind, making me unable to make sense of anything. I can’t think. I can’t do anything. I’m quivering and trembling. All I can do is beg to be brought to my master. And the door is locked.

“Damn, but there’s so much I’m not _allowed_ to do to you yet. Plus, there’s the matter of payment—you owe Igaryx for the ritual, of course. However—let’s take this opportunity to _teach_ you what it means to not being able to take care of these desires yourself. Only your master will be able to set you free,” Verg suggests.

Before I know it, Verg takes me in his arms, turning me around to face outwards, and nods to the incubus. Fear courses through my body, my nerves singing and tingling.

“Go ahead, help yourself,” Verg says to Igaryx.

My entire body continues to shake, as Verg holds my upper body tightly to his chest, pinning my arms behind my back. He toys with my nipples while watching the incubus over my shoulder. I watch black hair spill over my knees—and I shiver, my tail quivering slightly.

The red eyes look up at me when he opens his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip out from between his teeth. Several soft, terrified sounds slip out of my mouth when I see his fangs. I jerk away from him the moment his mouth opens. The bite on my thigh throbs heavily. I _don’t_ want him biting me again, and I _scream_.

“Stop— _please_ —no,” I protest, but I can’t move from this spot. Igaryx grabs my hips, holding me in place, pressing my weight into the floor, burning the soles of my feet, and also the backs of my thighs, which are bring pressed against my calves—by force and gravity—in an awkward squatting position.

“It’s all right, you’re all right—there’s _nothing_ to be afraid of. He won't bite you again. He's only come to collect what is rightfully his—what he's earned,” Verg whispers in my ear, licking it lightly. “So soft—I can’t get over how _soft_ these ears are. I could get used to these. Anyway, the ritual is done, so just let him do what he wants with you.”

“What he w- _wants_?” I lower my ears in fear, trying to squirm away, but I can’t move.

The red eyes meet mine, filled with animalistic heat, and again, I feel he wants to devour me. The tongue comes out and wraps around my dick. My thighs quiver, but to my surprise, instead of a fearful scream, an absolutely indecent sigh leaks from my lips.

When I feel the touch on my cock, an image of Rai flashes in my brain, and heat shoots through my body. My body instantly responds, my hips canting forward and shuddering in delight. A trembling moan comes out of me when my dick is fully drawn into the incubus’ mouth.

“You _like_ it, don’t you?” Verg whispers. His tongue enters the depths of my ears, and I don’t try to escape. Instead, I go with the flow, feeling the sensation of his long, thin tongue exploring my ears—so much wetter than Rai’s—and the incubus sucking my cock as he desires.

It feels amazing—wringing sighs and moans from my body. Is my response a result of that bite? Or is this simply my normal response? What is the payment required for the ritual? What is the incubus _taking_ from me? Then, as he reaches around my hips to grab the base of my tail, settling in with my entire length in my mouth, I realize _exactly_ what it is he’s collecting for payment. I’m horrified.

“Wait, _please_ , stop,” I hesitate. I can’t allow this. It’s too vulgar—and I can’t degrade myself like this—not in front of Verg. Not ever.

Why does he want... _that_?

At this point, I’m far too turned on to stop now. I try every trick to distract myself, but the feeling of his mouth and the touch on my tail is just too seductive. His touch is experienced, and it feels good. And that image—of Rai—it tricks me. I keep my eyes closed, but when I open them—Rai's face flashes before me in place of the incubus, stealing my breath away, arousing me even more, making my body even hotter.

It’s only a matter of minutes before my overly stimulated body reaches its limit, and I let out a moan I’m unable to stifle. Since my arms are pinned behind my back, I can’t cover my mouth. My mind goes completely blank, and my vision goes white for a second. I struggle to keep my eyes open, however. My body is filled with incredible pleasure—starting in my hips and flowing through me in rippling waves. With horror, revulsion, and fascination, I watch myself ejaculate into the incubus’s mouth. He watches my face as I come— _staring_ at my face—seeing me lose myself to pleasure—as I imagine it’s Rai giving me this pleasure—indulging in my desire despite the guilt I feel. He carefully licks my cock carefully, swallowing every last drop of my spent passion.

I’m left shuddering—after having experienced something I thought felt pleasant, but Verg chuckles lowly in my ear.

“Don’t you _remember_ , little kitty? I told you _only your master_ could give you release. Don’t you believe me?”

Just as he speaks those words, my body is completely overtaken with the same heated sensations it was suffering from just before my climax—only it’s _even_ hotter now that before. My dick gets hard again, straining painfully. I’m breathing heavy, panting breaths, suffering the consequence for allowing someone _other_ than my master to touch my body. _Painful_.

“Impressive, isn’t it? You’ll have to work hard at pleasing your master, especially since he isn’t very verbal, nor is he one to make advances on a young one who hasn’t yet experienced his first heat—seeing as he left you alone last night. I wonder, will you suffer till then? Suffer these worsening symptoms until your first heat? That isn’t for another two weeks, at least. How is this even going to work for you? Looks like you’re both in for a _world_ a pain.” 

Very gives my extra sensitive, now rock-hard cock a squeeze, and I gasp—lewdly—in response to the touch.

“Please please, _please_! Don't touch me. _Please_. Help me! Just— _please_ —take me to him.” I beg, exhausted, overwhelmed with the sensations in my body.

“Hmm. Why should I? We should play some more first, don’t you think?” Verg smiles wickedly.

I burst into tears when the incubus pins me to the ground, and I feel Verg’s mouth surrounding my cock. It hurts now—it’s pleasurable, but each stroke of his tongue feels painful because it’s so arousing.

I hear myself screaming for mercy through my tears. Just one word, “please,” over and over.

This is how I spend the rest of the afternoon. With Igaryx and Verg—and they were right. It is suffering I’ve never known. All I can think of is Rai, how to get to him, how much I want to see him, how much I _want_ him. After being stimulated beyond what I can stand, climaxing five or six more times—I lose count after four—and after each one, the consequences for seeking release elsewhere grow _exponentially_ worse.

By the time they finish with me, I can barely move. I can’t even lift my body onto all fours, nor can I turn myself over. I can't fight or resist. I’m covered in bodily fluids, and I feel utterly disgusting. I’m exhausted. But my body is tingling, my nerves raw and singed. My eyes are swollen from crying and my throat is sore. I can barely speak. My tail is still puffed out—almost as fluffy as Rai’s. Ah—just thinking of that tail makes me want to come again. And I probably could!

“We’d better get you cleaned up before dinner. I’m sure your master will be happy to see you like this, submissive, eager to please, and _so_ eager to see him. But first, I’ll leave you with Bardo for a bath,” Verg says, almost tenderly, while stroking my ears. Just touching my ears sends shivers down my spine.

“Please,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Just— _please_. Let me see Rai.”

“I don’t think so. You’ll have to wait until dinner time. This was just the consequence of your disobedience, little kitty. I’m sure you’ll think twice before disobeying me again. Plus, you don’t want your master to see you like _this_ , do you? Covered in fluids? You’re an absolute mess.”

Wrapping me in a blanket, Verg throws me over his shoulder, unlocks his door and swaggers out of the room. He leaves the incubus behind, locking him in the dungeon that is Verg’s chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap! Chapter 10 already. So I will be posting Part 2 of this series soon. I'm having lots of fun writing this series, and I thank you all for reading it.
> 
> Here, Konoe is rudely awoken by none other than the devil of pleasure, who drags him down the dungeon for "training." Konoe resists, saying he is supposed to do sword training today, and Verg ignores him.
> 
> Verg's chambers are actually in the dungeon, and he brings out a "friend" for Konoe to meet. Igaryx is an incubus, who basically ends up biting Konoe and bonding him as a slave to his master, Rai. The process is horrible for Konoe--he gets stripped of all clothing and sniffed and licked from head to toe, and then gets a hickey on the inside of his thigh with a demonic sigil in the center.
> 
> Now, as Verg not-so-gently points out, when Rai has a desire, if Konoe doesn't meet it, he will suffer "physiological consequences," which can only be relieved by his master. If Konoe tries to absolve these urges in other ways, the consequences come back more extreme. Verg and Igaryx spend most of the day sucking him off, trying to teach Konoe this lesson.
> 
> Konoe is left an exhausted, sobbing, crying mess of hormones and desire--and his brain doesn't even work right--when they drop him off at the bathhouse.


End file.
